Zwischenzug
by four-eyed 0-0
Summary: "[ˈtsvɪʃənˌtsuːk] n. an in-between or intermediate move in the game of chess; an intermezzo: posing an immediate threat against one by the opponent before playing the move expected of you, thus gaining advantage of the game," she recited, a sly smile tugging at her lips. His mouth twitched in amusement; it was the perfect word. Rated T for themes and language. Post-series. COMPLETE
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

 _Prelude_

"Again?"

A fingertip over the pinhole next to the power button and Yusuke's histrionics were muffled, the vibrations thumping gently against Kurama's skin.

More than ten years of knowing Yusuke rendered Kurama familiar with how loud the detective could get while on call. Sometimes the redhead thought it was his roundabout and unconscious attempt at defining his being the team leader, taking up the task of stressing over the inevitable and unchangeable. Other times he felt it had nothing to do with the de facto leadership; it was just the way Yusuke was.

Not that Kurama resented the detective for his attitude that was never down the road to betterment, but the redhead had just been rudely woken fifteen minutes before his alarm went off and he hadn't completely shaken the webbings of sleep from his head. As much as he could figure from the bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair sported by both Yusuke and Kuwabara, they'd also been enjoying the last blissful minutes of another week that hadn't had to start just yet.

Until they'd all been jerked awake, he blindly reaching for the obnoxious, noisy device he kept on his bedside table.

They all felt beyond obliged too early in the morning and to appease himself and as his version of quiet disagreement with this setup, he didn't bother pushing aside the blue window curtains that were well within his arm's reach, thus squinting at the glare of the compact communicator's screen that was too bright for his room the sunlight couldn't penetrate.

It was a Monday, and after six straight days at work, he found this treatment unjust.

Another attack not even a month after the previous one should upset anybody, and with Yusuke's capriciousness, Kurama wasn't fazed the least bit about his early morning prattling. Kuwabara's face had twisted into a frown, and Hiei's, plainly put, sour. No one saw this coming, as the case was thought to have wrapped up last week, and everyone desired to take a breather. Adult human life wasn't easy, after all.

After Yusuke had voiced out Kurama's sentiments (though not the way he would've had), the redhead let Botan continue with the details of this second attack, her voice carrying into his silent room, not muffled by any reflexive finger.

Every passing moment with Botan doing her piece, the situation painted itself more vividly… more, for lack of a better word, real.

"I'm on my way to the facility, and your portals will be opening in five minutes. You know the drill. See you in a bit!"

Kurama allowed himself a sigh. _Guess there's no point in dallying._ He offered his companions a brief, defeated nod.

In one fluid motion, Kurama closed his communicator and stood up from the bed, heading straight towards the dresser and taking out the first article of clothing he'd come across. He stripped off his pajamas and dropped them into his hamper, put on his trousers and a simple green shirt, grabbed his hairbrush and made his way down the stairs as he tied his hair in a low ponytail, all the while adjusting the seeds tucked safely within the strands.

He quickly maneuvered his way towards the bathroom, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. Virtually, he was ready for a busy day ahead, but a low growling from his stomach sent him hurrying to the kitchen to grab a piece of apple sitting in the fridge and he dug his teeth into his too cold breakfast.

Chewing on his food in a rather undignified manner, he bolted for the front door to pick up his tennis shoes by the rack and his brown jacket off the hook, jogged up the stairs, and glided into his room, going straight for the dresser. The quiet thud of rubber on wood echoed through the lonely room and he slipped his feet into his shoes as he put on his jacket. With his left arm through the sleeve, he peered at his watch.

Thirty seconds.

He took in the room at large and made sure he'd locked his bedroom door before he positioned a hand over the dresser's door handle. Five seconds and he'd chewed the last of his apple, and he held onto the core as he pulled open the door of his dresser.

His clothes were gone and the familiar swirling black-and-blue vortex greeted his eyes. Years ago, Yusuke and Kuwabara had coined these portals as the "Vacuum", owning to the mechanism with which the portals operated. And as he raised a foot to step into it without a second's delay, the sensation coming back exactly as he remembered, he slipped into this other dimension unbound by time and space.

" _Sucked up,"_ Kuwabara had uttered some years back.

With the mastery of a person who'd been hitching a ride like this far too often, Kurama deftly yanked his dresser door closed before he landed in a crouch, his hand smoothly breaking his fall from, as it had always seemed, the sky. Concrete grazed his fingers, and as he stared up ahead of him, he knew he was at the right place.

"Kurama! Come on!" Yusuke yelled somewhere in front of him.

Kurama broke into a run, fishing out his favorite seed and growing it into a blood-red rose. He fell a step behind Yusuke, and from the corners of his eyes he saw Kuwabara and Hiei catching up with him. He looked on ahead, towards the building going rapidly up in smoke.

* * *

A/N:

Hello, everybody. Somehow I've become alive again and got onto writing this new fic. It's actually a rewrite of The Science of the Inexplicable (a.k.a. the story I never got to finish) and right now you should know that major changes are abound. I'm sorry about my other fic, Of Bridges and the Rest, for I don't think I'd be able to write any more of it at the moment. This fic's been plaguing me since I got off my junior year in college and I finally gave in to it.

I'd like you to know that this will be a long story. Setting up will take time, and I hope you'd be patient with that.

I hope you liked this chapter. I know it's short, but it's the way it's meant to be. Please review! I _need_ your comments on this story!

See you. :)


	2. I - Haphazard

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part I

 _"If the creator had a purpose in equipping us with a neck, he surely meant us to stick it out."_

– Arthur Koestler, _Encounter_

o-o

 _Haphazard_

The bland wall across from where she'd taken perch was splashed with the first rays of late spring sunlight, taking on a familiar, less boring hue. She took another drag from the cigarette that jutted from her lips, breathing out the smoke through her nostrils in sharp, straight lines.

As she stared at the two columns of smoke that dissipated as rapidly as she'd shoot them out, she scoffed. She must have looked like her senior who, more often than not, took the form of a dragon—always seething and breathing smoke. If she'd been able to will cigarette smoke to come out of her ears, she'd have made a perfect impression of the disagreeable fellow. But she couldn't, and she took it well.

Nobody wanted to be like him anyway.

He'd yelled at the team again around six in the morning after another of his failed trials, grabbing the sparse remains of hair that sat on top of his head as he stormed off from the lab room. Had she not been awake for almost thirty-six hours, she'd have easily tuned him out as he chewed their ear off over their latest mistake at recombination, which he actually caused. But she'd long gone past the point of passive function, and her head was buzzing with alertness.

"J-just get out my face, all of you!" Yamamoto had said, throwing his hands up in the air.

The room had broken into a scramble as everyone took the hint. As soon as the scientist turned his back, she rolled her eyes, tossed her lab gown into her locker, grabbed her bag, and hightailed to the lifts, punching the button as though force would make it jolt downward faster. Her colleagues caught up with her, and they all stood in front of the lift doors in stony silence, too tired to poke fun at Yamamoto and his obsessive streak.

When she was inside the elevator, however, she realized it wasn't like him at all. To replicate mistakes in the lab, that is. He was always level-headed and his subordinates often were the ones who kept messing up the experiments. Now, he must be very pissed with himself since the error came from him when she'd tried to deter him from doing it. Again. Must have been a punch in the gut.

 _Served him right._

She could've gone straight home as soon as she was out the building, but she didn't wish to get into something messy. Anger and lack of sleep could be a deadly combination. God knows how slim she'd escaped death once when she'd ridden off fuming.

And so she was sitting at the roots of a maple tree she'd taken as her personal sanctuary whenever the boss blew a fuse. It was at the eastern side of the complex, the perfect spot to take a smoke when she needed one; the first to be touched by sunlight in the mornings and the first to bid goodbye to the glorious sun. She'd relied on daylight to make her feel alive when she felt less of a human and more like a robot after a long night of confinement inside the laboratory, with all its artificial lighting and conditioned air. She'd loved the lack of sunset rays when she needed to feel that the day had rolled to an end, and that it was time to go home.

The smoke was just a plus. _Heh._

Satisfied and feeling better than she had an hour ago, she put out the cigarette butt against the moist grass and wrapped it in a scratch paper before stashing the whole thing inside her bag's pocket.

She stood up and stretched her hands above her head, slipping into her jacket as she trudged up towards the parking area. She nodded to the guard who seemed to have just replaced the one on night shift as she took a turn down the familiar route to the far end of the basement. Very few spots were not vacated, as was typical of a Monday morning, and the small amount of sunlight that penetrated the window slats sucked out a little of the gloom inside.

Unlocking the compartment under the seat of her bike, she took out one of the helmets and stashed her bag inside. She zipped up her jacket and put on her helmet before swinging her leg over to take her seat. Pushing the key into ignition, she shifted gears and revved the bike, pulling out of her parking space and bursting into the morning light as she maneuvered the bike to the southern gate of the complex.

A nice, rejuvenating bath waited for her at home and she was almost smiling when a heavy sound—muffled a bit by the helmet but loud and deafening all the same—made her jump and lose her balance. She immediately hit the brakes, wincing as she stuck out a booted foot to stop her fall as she and the bike tilted at a dangerous angle.

There was another thundering sound that she was too familiar with after watching too many movies. She lifted the face shield of her helmet and twisted in her seat, her eyes widening at the scene that unfolded in front of her.

The white building that was the laboratory had burst into flames, a chunk from the east wing chopped off as though bitten by an invisible giant that decided to spit it out as soon as it'd sunk its teeth on it. This sent a shiver down her spine, as she could have been under the rubble-vomitus and be on her way to Gonersville. Or riding a boat while crossing River Styx.

Tough luck.

It must have been what she'd heard, aside from the explosion, and as she surveyed the area, she realized the huge column of black smoke and flames licking the sky arose from the seventeenth floor… from their unit.

Just as the fire alarm went off, her heart started thumping wildly in her chest, acid rising up her throat.

 _Crap._

She kicked off her bike to turn about, speeding towards the guard post, not stopping until her front wheel was practically against its wall. But the guard had already gone, probably to respond to a call from the others, and she cursed under her breath.

Another explosion, this time coming from overhead, and her heart seemed to leap to her throat as a large chunk of the building made its descent, gaining momentum, aiming for her head.

She allowed a shriek before swinging her bike out of harm's way. The unmistakable crash that followed shook the ground, and her bike jolted on its own volition and she dared not to look back, thankful that she'd narrowly missed a pathetic manner of death.

Yamamoto could still be inside the building for all she knew. But she couldn't play hero and just come to the rescue of her least liked colleague. Death was just breathing down her neck a while ago and she didn't want a repeat of that.

It was either he'd gone home while she smoked her cancer stick or he'd stayed behind and blown himself to bits. Try as she may to think twice about the latter, she'd known her senior long enough to be sure that it was just really one or the other. The guy was married to his job, after all.

Willing her heart to descend back to its pericardium, she hoped for the best. She had to get out of here.

The rider took her bike to the main entrance, turning the handlebars every which way as she avoided the pieces of concrete and scorching metalwork. She leaned forward the gas tank, willing the bike to go faster. She regretted this decision almost instantly, when she had to slam the brakes once more and the bike almost stood on its front wheel before clanging back on its rear end.

Sometimes she thought she must have cheated her way into getting a license.

A large crowd had gathered by the courtyard; of rattled employees and… deformed humans?

Before her, a dozen or so humanoids had closed in on several of the staff. About six feet tall, they towered over the personnel.

Tall and gangly, their too-thin physique could give models a run for their money while their bald, bloated heads—the size of basketballs—probably had given their mothers seizures before crowning even happened.

She couldn't give a name to the creatures that surrounded her colleagues, and maybe she was only imagining things. But when she opened her eyes after shaking her head twice, her co-workers were still cowering, the humanoids hissing and brandishing their clawed hands.

They didn't even look like hands; they looked more like talons, what with their sheer length. One of them raised an insanely long, bony arm and one of her colleagues bristled as he was hoisted off the ground by the collar of his lab gown. She didn't know the man by name, but he was familiar by face, one he regularly encountered in the halls and acknowledged with a nod.

The beast raised the employee three feet above the ground, and before it could use the poor guy than its own head to play basketball, she angled the bike and sped towards the knot.

"Watch out!" she yelled over the roar of the engine.

She didn't need to repeat herself. It took not even a moment before the crowd broke apart, humans and humanoids alike running out and leaving a wide berth at her bike's wake.

She turned back to the stunned lab gown-clad employees and yelled once more, "What are you waiting for? Run!"

She should really stop telling them what to do and keep her eyes on the road instead; she gathered as much when she twisted back and the chainlink fence was already too close—

A last minute angling of the handlebars and she skidded to a halt just before she killed herself, she with her bike keeling over trying to maintain inertia. It was all it took before the seat released her and she tumbled to the side, her bike sliding the opposite direction, towards the fence. In an attempt to break her fall, her forearm made contact with the ground and all she heard was a loud crrrrrack—

Pain shot from her hand to her elbow, and she writhed on the ground, cradling the injured limb. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, the face shield of her helmet clouding over. Footsteps thundered around her and when she raised her head to look, some of the people she just tried to save were heading towards her. Even with her state, she managed to roll her eyes.

"Get out of here!"

The three men and two women froze, not quite comprehending what she just said.

She slid the face shield up and repeated herself. "I can take care of myself. Go!"

As if to prove her point, she pushed herself off the ground with her good hand, the action prompting the cause of her almost-death to do as she instructed. Which also prompted the beasts to snap out of their trance, coming after them and her.

Panicked, she bit her lip and used both hands to set her bike upright, letting the tears flow as her left arm screamed in pain. She jumped to ride and revved the bike once more, swerving the first few feet.

The bike would need repairing after this.

The ground seemed to quake as the beasts closed in on her and her grip slackened from the fright. Her heart almost deafened her, muscle pulling too hard at her left hand that she let out a hiss.

She chanced a glance at the humanoids. They were much too closer than she wanted, heading straight towards her.

Adrenaline finally kicking in, she found her bearing and the bike, almost as though feeling her, roared to life. She aimed for the gate and darted away, bringing the rear of the crowd that had almost poured out of the gate.

But damn the bike and her injury and her lack of sleep. She was extremely slow and the gate didn't seem to get nearer.

She glanced back. Three feet away, the first humanoid finally lunged to catch at her taillight and a shriek caught at her throat.

 _Don't you dare touch my bike. Don't you dare._

Angered that some weird little idiot didn't know better than messing with her already damaged bike, she violently swerved from side to side, ignoring the tears that accompanied the pain from the whole of her left arm. Biting down at her lip, she was sure she almost tasted blood she drew out. She slammed at the brakes entirely so that the humanoid bounced back, falling on its companions.

She allowed a breath before kicking off again, taking advantage of the distraction, and was almost out when she caught a flicker of color in the corner of her eyes. Out of sheer curiosity and, later on she'd realize, stupidity, she slowed to a stop and craned her neck to look back at the compound.

A large column of black smoke rose from the building that was slowly being stripped off to be left as a skeleton of metal and concrete. And out in the open, five figures had materialized, running towards the humanoids.

She probably just missed the poof that came with them when they materialized out of thin air. They'd just… appeared, like magic. _Yeah, right._

And they were charging at the monsters. Three words: _What the heck._

Her jaw dropped at their audacity, but when she cast them a second look, she was convinced she'd gone insane. Of the five, the cotton candy bob that was riding—dare she believed it—a flying oar, was a blue-haired girl in a pink kimono. She angled the oar towards the sky and shot up, darting through the burning building.

She blinked again. The girl just dissolved through the building… like a ghost. With blue hair. Who in their right minds would dye their hair blue? And a pink kimono?

 _Hold it. A ghost. Haha. In broad daylight. Hahaha. When had they become this active? Haha._

Shaking herself out of her daze, she directed her eyes towards the flying girl's companions. They'd broken out into a scuffle against the humanoids, but she only saw flickers of the four men—or was it three with the redheaded girl?

They were all flickers. They darted past, disappearing from one spot and appearing in another in a wink. Again, _what the heck_.

Tired and hurting as she was, she took the time to watch them. They were all but blurs before her eyes, but if she strained enough, she could make out what was happening as one took a pause from a fallen humanoid and gathered momentum before attacking the next opponent. These instances didn't even last a second, but she could faintly, with enough persistence, catch some of the movements.

She couldn't help it. She was curious. It was one of those rare moments in life that you know you had to stick your nose to understand even though you know it was weird and illusive.

And that was coming from a person of science.

Slowly, the blurs started clearing out, and she could finally see the group as though she was viewing them on a TV with poor reception. But it was better than no TV at all.

One moment the dark-haired man was punching the lights out of one beast, the next green beams of light were shooting from his hand. Other times he rammed his glowing hand into a humanoid's gut and it created the same effect—blasted bacon bits.

The shortest, the black-clad dude with the hair that stood up despite gravity, was slicing up one and two and three and four—boy, was he fast. He must be a ninja or a samurai, dancing with his bloody katana in hand. There was fluidity in his movements, like he'd been doing this for quite some time. _Huh. Like a hobby or a pastime? Spare me._

The redhead with a ponytail held a green thorny rope and flicked it gracefully, letting it cut through the air, the six-footers dropping as clean meat chunks. Classy. The dude/lass— _I don't know—_ could probably kill them off with just the lazy command of his/her hand, without so much as batting an eyelash.

Last but definitely not the least, the ginger with a pompadour à la riizento punk style brandished a similarly ginger… sword? It definitely reminded her of a lightning bolt, and over the ruckus she could faintly hear the zap. The Zeus-dude took out one monster at a time kendo-style. He was the tallest and slowest of the four, but he killed like a pro, if she ever saw one.

This might as well be a scene that was taken straight from a movie or manga, with the amount of blood and gore that sent more acid up her throat.

The distant sound of fire trucks snapped her back to reality. With the firemen, the police were bound to arrive soon, and the media (of freaking course) would be intolerable. She didn't want to deal with more mess right now. They'd ask her questions she wouldn't want to answer and she couldn't answer.

 _Q: What happened?_

 _A: I don't know._

 _Q: Where did these weirdoes come from?_

 _A: I don't know._

 _Q: How did you haul your ass from the burning building?_

 _A: Dumb luck._

 _Q: Where are the rest of your—blah blah blah…_

 _A: I don't know._

And if the events of today were indeed to go by, they wouldn't believe her one bit. Who would? For all she knew, this could be just an elaborate dream. Working in the lab till morning should render someone delirious.

But with the pain in her arm, she should've already woken up. And this dream was too vivid to even forget about the moment that she did wake up.

With one last look at the four kids, her hands curled around the handlebars of her bike and she sped away, making sure to take the route with the narrow alleys where she wouldn't come across the cops.

Luck must be really on her side for when she finally turned to the main street, not only one or two, but five ambulances had come to gather her shaken comrades. The shock of white against the asphalt at the other end of the street wasn't really hard to miss, especially with the wailing of the ambulances. _Can't get caught now, though._

She sat up straight and pulled down the visor of her helmet, keeping her head down. As the red light changed to green, she pulled at the bars harshly, hitting the road over the speed limit as she took a turn to her right. She only slowed down when crowd of victims and onlookers were about five blocks away, taking a sharp turn to a shortcut back home.

As the sirens grew farther and fainter, her wildly beating heart began to make its presence felt. The adrenaline slowly dwindled to its basal level and her arm started hurting like a bitch once more.

Try as she may to calm herself, the absurdity of the events had already seared the image of the five people in her memory that the snake at the pit of her stomach started to wake, writhing in curiosity. She'd have to know what in heaven's name just happened. She'd have to see if all these were real.

But first she needed to patch up.

No, she needed a bath.

* * *

A/N:

So, hello again! Here's the first official chapter of this fic. I hope you liked it. Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting a chapter focusing on our boys. I had to lay things down the way they're most logical to be laid down (if that makes sense). And the name of this female? Not yet revealing that tidbit. Peace!

By now I think you should know that this fic will center on mystery-solving and romantic elements. We will explore human drama (or demon drama, for that matter), as I plan to make this big (at least as I have taken down on my notebook). I hope you stick with me through the end.

Thank you to everyone who read and added this story to their faves and alerts and most of all, for reviewing! You keep me fueled! So please don't forget to drop a line or two. Or three. :)

Dear _Kal (Guest)_ , I would've replied to your review via PM; I hope this reaches you just the same. Thank you and I hope you'd love this chap. :)

Enjoyed the chapter? Didn't? Please drop a review! I need to know what you think! See you! :)


	3. I - Omniscience

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part I

 _"The general himself ought to be such a one as can at the same time see both forward and backward."_

– Plutarch, _Whether an Aged Man ought to meddle in State Affairs_

o-o

 _Omniscience_

His whip sliced through the creature that had advanced towards him and he flipped himself backwards as he took down another to his right. Kurama hit the ground running, charging past Hiei and Kuwabara and flicked his wrist, neatly cutting five of the creatures in half.

The distant sirens of fire trucks and ambulances reached his ear. The latter must be Botan's doing or she'd receive some reprimand from Koenma. He sighed, one for the post-battling protocol that he'd have to oversee.

More of the lanky creatures streamed from inside the laboratory and Kurama looked over his shoulder to check up on the crowd of employees that had burst out of the gates, catching sight of a motorcycle that had turned the corner. It had previously brought up the rear of the crowd, but had seemed to stay behind, as much as he could gather from the length of time he and his teammates had been in the skirmish. Kurama recalled to the forefront of his mind the license plate, distorted and lopsided, as though it was hit by something equally sturdy:

7 – Shinagawa – Wo

31-05

 _If the rider had lurked a moment longer than they needed to…_

Kurama somersaulted in the air just as a blue ball of energy—of reiki—almost seared a hole in his stomach.

… _then it's either they know more than we do…_

He had no time to act on his surprise as another ball barreled towards him and he pushed his hand against the asphalt to propel himself out of harm's way.

… _or they don't._

He straightened as his feet touched the ground again, watching as more rubble fell from the already collapsed building as one too many energy spheres hit none of the team.

Hopefully the troops coming from Reikai would do their job as instructed.

He took down another of the monsters after gaining mastery of the situation. Even though the energy spheres came at rapid rates, the creatures didn't match their speed. This provided plenty of time for Kurama to avoid taking hits to the stomach, as he was very partial to, a realization he'd had almost a decade ago.

The creatures kept coming at them, and soon enough, he was standing in the middle of the battleground with the backs of Yusuke, Kuwabara, and Hiei pressed to his. The asphalt had taken a darker shade from the blood and flesh that littered about, and he silently wondered how much more they'd have to slay to get out of this.

"Are you kidding me?" Yusuke said between gasps, fists stretched out in front of him.

Kuwabara let out a chuckle, high-strung. "Reiki and beach ball heads? Rich prank, if I ever saw one."

"They're definitely a level-up from the previous puppets."

"I wonder what the boss would be like."

"Beach ball-headed humans with youki?"

Kurama's lips twitched, holding back a laugh. Hiei scoffed in return, not bothering to roll his eyes to the back of his head.

"Getting impatient, are we?" said Kurama, grabbing at anything to clear up the nervous atmosphere that had descended over them.

"Tch. We came here to fight."

"Yeah, but we're not that much of a war freak."

Before Kuwabara and Hiei broke out into their routine scuffle, Yusuke yelled, "All right, guys! Let's wipe their asses off the face of the three realms! Free ramen after this!"

Kurama shook his head at the detective's lousy attempt at prep talk, which was always the case, before jumping off as one with the team. He secured a spot to the west, raising over his head the hand that grasped his rose whip. Slowly, he flicked his wrist in a circular motion, clockwise, the dangling end of the whip rising as it gathered force. Rose petals began to swim in the air surrounding him.

The beasts that had previously charged at him froze in their tracks, stunned. He allowed a small smirk to play at his lips before summoning more of his youki. His jacket and the tips of his hair rose as the wall of wind and petals moved faster with the command of his whip, and his whole body tingled with the energy it was amassing.

A pair of the beasts seemed to remember what they were here for, and they tore their eyes away from the dancing petals, shooting through his whirlwind. The balls of energy bounced back with a zap, as though hitting a mirror loaded with electrical energy, and crashed into their proponents, blowing them up.

Kurama smirked once more.

 _That should be enough._

The tingling dissipated, replaced by a steady buzzing. Kurama opened his mouth and roared, _"Rose Whip Thorn Wheel!"_

Sickle-shaped blades of his youki pierced through the wall of wind and petals, catapulting in different directions. Around him the beasts fell bunch by bunch, limb by limb. Soon the whole army that had hemmed him in was naught.

He slowed down his swinging of the rose whip, the tingling coming back to him. As the petals fell off the air no longer moving, the sensation died down entirely, and he became more aware of his companions.

The four of them stood alone, the only breathing creatures in the mass graveyard they had yet to dig up.

Kurama sighed, letting his whip revert back to a rose, then to a seed that he tucked under his hair. Ever on cue, five familiar auras made themselves felt, and the four of them stepped aside, away from the gore, as they fixed their eyes on the five people that had materialized as beams of white light landing from the sky.

"Urameshi, Kuwabara, Kurama, Hiei," said the female captain, briefly nodding to each of them. "We'll take over from here."

They all walked away, waiting in silence for Botan to arrive and give them instructions. It had always been the standard protocol: gore, sidelines, post-gore proceedings. The Spirit World SDF had never bothered placing their full trust in their team, obligated to clean up after they did the dirty job. Though their team wasn't one to talk; the sentiments were mutually shared.

The edgy police sirens echoed through the compound as three automobiles pulled up into the driveway, while yelled instructions from the firemen carried through from the southern gate. Even in the chaos, every sound was distinct, and Kurama's head started to throb a little.

Botan swooped in front of them and alighted her oar, taking out her notepad and pen. She turned to them with a small half-smile—not too proud, but proud nonetheless. After years of working for the Reikai, Kurama had come to relate the smile to that of non-satisfaction, as there was never a time they walked out of a mission with a feeling of fulfillment. They gained some, lost some. It was constantly that way.

"Terrific job, as always, guys," said the ferry girl, nodding at them. "But of course we need you to take care of the human victims."

"Was everyone retrieved?" asked Kuwabara.

"According to Witness Protection, yes," said Botan.

Kurama's memory brought to mind an image. "Did they retrieve a motorbike rider?"

They all turned to him, and Hiei grunted, as though to underline what he just said. The fire demon must have taken notice of the lingering presence, too.

The pen found its way to Botan's lips as she scanned the notepad. "Hmm, no motorbike riders at all, but we can't be sure just yet. All of the victims they found were those wearing laboratory gowns. Did you see the rider on site?"

Kurama knew hoping was too much. He could've gone after the person if only their hands weren't tied. He tried to recall as much detail as he could before speaking again. "It was a woman."

"Did you see her face?"

Kurama's thumb automatically connected with his chin as he paused in thought. The distance of the gate from the courtyard was relatively great and would've impeded anyone else from making out the tear-stained features of the stranger. Why she was crying was a great mystery. "She had a full-face helmet on but had the visor up. I remember the license plate."

"That's great then! We'd be able to find her easily. Was she suspicious?"

"She was escaping with the crowd but seemed to have paused to watch us."

If they were to look into the matter lightly, the rider's actions were normal as anyone else's; it was in the very nature of both humans and demons to have a need for survival as well as satisfaction to curiosity. But at this point into the new era and with their jobs, complacency wasn't very acceptable.

No matter how much effort the powers that be exerted in order to maintain the relative image of peace across the three realms, evil still lurked in untouched corners. They could be the pettiest of crimes as well as the most elaborate. While some could add spice to their routine days in the Ningenkai, the sort such as this one proved less than convenient.

It was the second attack in a month and they didn't have a clue who was behind all this.

Botan jotted what Kurama had said. "May I have the license plate?"

Kurama recited the details and she closed her notepad, turning to address the four of them with a wide smile.

"All right, so the usual. We're going to the city hospital. The ride should arrive soon, and the witnesses should be all be unconscious except for the three chosen for the questioning. Must I remind you not to scare them off—"

Hiei groaned as Botan pointedly looked at him. Kuwabara didn't bother to hold back his laughter and Yusuke and Kurama joined him shortly. The fire demon had come across as too terse for a still shell-shocked witness the previous assignment they had that he passed out without Hiei's jagan working on him.

Botan chuckled, her arms going akimbo as she tried to keep her composure from crumbling. She wagged her pen in front of them, unable to wipe the smile off her face even as she tried to sound serious.

"That goes for the three of you as well! Don't go harassing the witnesses just because Kurama would blow some powder under their nose after you're done with them."

Although the warning didn't contain any hint of malice, Kurama inwardly flinched as he was reminded of the dirtiest job of all—modifying the witnesses' memories without their consent. The Reikai could've easily let the witnesses get off with their memories intact but Koenma had feared they all had to keep up the charade lest they wished for their efforts to be put into waste. The less people knew about the problems, the better.

He and his companions didn't agree to this set-up at first as Koenma himself had his reservations. What was the use of concealing the truth from humans when the barrier had been taken down and all sorts of youkai were able to roam around freely among them?

" _Public unrest will still more," Kurama had said simply. "If word gets round that youkai are able to elicit terror in the Ningenkai or humans in the Makai, more of those who wish to disturb the peace would be confident to carry out their plans."_

 _Koenma had nodded. "General panic and lost sense of reason can do more damage than you think."_

Towns swallowed by panic meant more work. And so they were stuck with doing the lesser evil.

At least humans were kept aware with regards to the youkai that had decided to inhabit their realm. They might be stripping them off their rights to know all that came with this reality, but it was the best they could do.

They couldn't really eradicate evil entirely, but that was what they were here for: to maintain peace to the best of their capabilities.

Three suit-clad men made their way to their little party, bowing to them in greeting. Kurama readily recognized them, all hailing from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. Koenma had legislated that they enlist the help of and maintain working relations with the human police force, as they relieved them of the duty of taking care of rowdy snoopers and keeping up the façade.

They had to have some form of insurance from the inside, after all.

"Inspector Inoue," said Yusuke, nodding at the man sporting a small stub of facial hair, hawk eyes hidden behind the glare of his eyeglasses.

"Detective Urameshi," Inoue said in return, his tone starched. "We've come to collect you."

"And the witnesses?"

"We're bringing you to them."

Yusuke turned to them and jerked his head towards the police cars, beckoning wordlessly.

With the detectives leading their small group to the gates, Kurama took in the scene before them as the Special Detective Force gathered the fallen creatures, placing them in black zippered bags without so much as a grimace. The five of them were quick to work, about a dozen bags already piled up by a random corner. Those bags would find their way to the Reikai to be examined, and he'd have to know the results, no matter how he'd have to bug Koenma about it.

Inspector Inoue opened the doors on one side of a car and rounded the bumper before settling himself in the driver seat. Kuwabara hastily took the passenger's, clearly intent on keeping as much distance as he could from Hiei. The rest of them silently clambered into the backseat, Yusuke in the middle, while Botan hovered by the window, sitting sidesaddle on her oar.

"It's the second time," said the inspector as he shifted drive and pulled out of the parking space.

Even with the bland utterance, the meaning of the inspector's statement wasn't lost on any of them.

Kurama looked out the window, watching as the rest of the police officers in their blue armored uniforms and dark helmets try to placate the growing crowd of onlookers who wished to pass beyond the yellow lines. Several members of the media scattered about, none of them successful in taking a good shot of the scene as the automobiles had blocked vantage points for their rolling cameras.

Yusuke pushed against the backrest and glared at the inspector through the rearview mirror as he replied, "Look, we're doing everything to understand what's happening."

"Your efforts have proved futile."

Kurama's eye twitched as Yusuke scoffed. This human's gall to confront four capable people should come from the fact that they were inside an authorized vehicle and that he was behind the wheel.

Classic.

"I hate to break it to you but you're barking at the wrong tree. If you have issues, shove them up your sorry ass and blow them out while speaking to Koenma. We're here to do our assignments as they come and as they go. I don't expect you to understand, since you don't see half the shit we go through to get all these done in record time."

Kurama's eyes swept through his companions. At Yusuke's blatant disregard of the authority, which had gone on for longer than he could remember, Kuwabara paled, Hiei smirked, and Inoue chuckled with a shake of his head.

"It wasn't my intention to undermine you and your team, Urameshi," said the inspector, patient as a saint. "I just wished for you to know of our frustrations about the matter. Our forces have worked with you for years now and we do not envision any riff that could break the bond we have forged with you."

Yusuke huffed, unconvinced.

"I beg your pardon."

The young man sitting next to Kurama crossed his arms and let his head loll backwards with no headrest to catch it. "Yeah, whatever, man. Sorry I said anything."

Kurama could almost laugh at the exchange. Neither of them had sounded genuinely sorry, and it didn't come out as a surprise since there had always been an unspoken animosity between the Reikai Tantei and the human police. It was one that came with the territory.

It was the same routine—exchanging words meant as they were said without acknowledging the underlying intent. Kurama had to give it to Yusuke for playing the game easily and for always having the upper hand.

"Inspector," said Kurama, deciding to follow through with protocol. "How many witnesses are there?"

"Fifteen were brought to the hospital."

"Was there any motorbike rider?"

"None reported." He cast his eyes on Kurama through the mirror. "Was there supposed to be one?"

"Yes, a woman."

"I will deploy a search party at your disposal."

Kurama waved a hand. "I don't think that will be necessary. We'll have enough information to go by when we get to the three brought in for questioning."

Inoue nodded, and the rest of the ride passed in stony silence. Kurama absently watched as the city blurred past the window, taking in the impassive harmony that the people enjoyed without even trying. If only they knew what had happened…

He was cut off from his reverie when the car pulled up the entrance to the city hospital. They all got off the vehicle, Botan floating above their heads, and walked up the stone steps with the other two police officers to be greeted by a familiar face leaning on the doorframe.

"Yo, Ruka!" said Yusuke, saluting the nurse, clipboard pressed against her chest.

She cast their group a heavily-lidded stare before nodding her head in acknowledgment. "Hello to you too, detective," she drawled out before shifting her gaze to the other party, "Inspector, officers. Come this way."

Ruka gestured for them to follow her, maneuvering their group down the hallway. The walls, painted a sickly shade of blue, reminded him of antisepsis more than the outward smell that hung in the air. He didn't have fond memories of hospitals, and the mirror incident didn't even count.

Their guide walked with an easy confidence only someone who knew what they were doing could project, and he wasn't surprised he and his companions couldn't take this as seriously as possible no matter how many times they'd already done it.

They didn't need to be reminded of what happened years ago to find the situation comical.

Ruka stopped at the fifth door and gestured for them to come inside. Yusuke went in without a word, and they all hovered by the threshold as they took in the room at large.

Kurama's eyes had to adjust to the stark brightness of the room. Six beds were pushed against two opposite walls, all draped with white linens and privacy curtains. Sunlight poured in from the large glass windows running the length of one wall, bathing the whole room with light that hurt the eyes upon coming from outside.

Ruka silently closed the door behind them, resigning to the back of the crowd. "We administered sedatives for the twelve of them," said the nurse lazily. "Three were randomly chosen and isolated. They should be ready for your questions when you're through here."

Inoue cleared his throat, not wasting words to express his utter disgust at the underhanded procedure. No one bothered dignifying his attempt to make them feel guilty. It was a constant that came with their line of work.

"Inspector," said Kurama, without turning his head, "if you may."

A scrambling of three pairs of feet and the door was slid open before falling closed. Kurama waited for the footsteps to fade before stepping in the middle of the room and reaching in his hair for a lone, brown pea-sized seed. The familiar tingling came back as he forced his energy to flow in it, letting it sprout and grow into a single-stemmed plant, four pairs of brown leaves decussate with a solitary, terminal white flower.

The campanulate flower dangled off the stalk, stamen facing downwards and bursting with bright yellow pollen grains. Kurama gently shook the flower, letting some of the pollen sacs fall on an open palm. His fingers curled inwards, crushing the sacs to get the pollen grains out. He felt the hard walls bite into his skin without damage, the density turning out fine. Otherwise, the witnesses would not remember their names.

"Cover your noses and mouth," he said at the room at large, before muttering under his breath for the incantation.

He spread out his right arm and threw the pollen in the air, projecting some of his power to carry them to the targets. The pollen grains glowed despite the sunlight, and for a minute, everything seemed silent as Kurama's power pulsated throughout the room, the powder scattering in bright, broad yellow arcs from the point of release. The arcs ended on the beds, landing on each of the sleeping witnesses' faces.

Soon, the pollen grains disappeared, as though absorbed by the air, and Kurama shrunk his plant back to its dormant state. A collective sigh sounded from behind him as his companions released their breaths.

He almost rolled his eyes before turning to them. "I've already told you before that you don't need to hold your breath whenever I do that."

Kuwabara shrugged. "Urameshi and I were trying to find out who could hold it longer."

"And who—?"

"Me, of course!" they said in unison, heads whipping to face each other.

At their antics, Kurama shook his head, gesturing for them to open the door.

* * *

A/N:

* In Japan, motorcycle license plates follow this format:

EOH

##-##

(Top)

Left corner (E): Expiration of issuance ( _e.g._ 7 for July or 12 for December)

Middle (O): Issuing office in kanji ( _e.g._ Shinagawa or Nerima in Tokyo Prefecture and Fukuyama in Hiroshima Prefecture)

Right corner (H): Hiragana character (a fixed set of characters is allowed for different vehicle types)

(Bottom)

(##-##): Four-digit serial number divided into two groups separated by a hyphen

Motorcycles are issued white plates with green borders.

* I don't really know what Kurama's plant looks like (I've been checking the manga where it was used in the bonus two-shots in volume 7) so I just created the description. If you'd like to know, decussate = leaves opposite each other and at right angles with adjacent pairs (best seen when you view the plant from the top), and campanulate = shaped like a bell (Yes, a bit of botany for you.). The color scheme? Well, I leave it to you to think about.

* Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and those who added this story to their faves and alerts! You make me happy! Next chapter will be up in a week, so keep your eyes peeled!

* Enjoyed the chapter? Didn't? Please drop a review! I need to know what you think! See you! :)


	4. I - Oblivious

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part I

" _For he who fights and runs away  
_ _May live to fight another day;  
_ _But he who is in battle slain  
_ _Can never rise and fight again."_

– Oliver Goldsmith, _The Art of Poetry on a New Plan_

o-o

 _Oblivious_

"Ugh."

She lifted the helmet off her as she considered again the damage the rear of her bike had suffered. The license plate was dented, dangling off one of the hinges while the taillight was cracked down the middle. It would definitely need replacing, but as it would expire in July and she wouldn't be able to drive for who knows long, there wasn't really a need to worry herself bald.

She tugged the metal plate off with her good hand, testing how it held. It didn't even screech as she pulled. Groaning as she realized that she wouldn't be able to yank it off without injuring her left hand further as she couldn't do it singlehandedly (no pun intended) and settled for leaving it for later.

Tired and aching, she retrieved her handbag from the seat compartment and trudged up the pavement to the outdoor lifts. She jabbed at the call button, blowing off her eyes a lock of hair that escaped from her small bun and wiping her face with her sleeve. The lifts seemed to take forever, and she sang her hallelujahs when the doors finally opened and another tenant stepped out of it.

"Good morning," said the man automatically as they passed each other.

"Morning," she replied in a low voice, not bothering to look up as she pressed the button for her floor and for the doors to close. More than the fact that she looked like the skunk took aim at her face, she didn't know the man, and she was not in the mood for pleasantries when her arm was hurting like a jackhammer had pressed on it.

The lift doors slid closed and she leaned on one wall of the car, sighing. Her morning had been rough and she was useless until she recovered from her injury and found a new research facility to work on.

Briefly wondering how Stella-Bio would take up again after the incident, she was pulled out of her reverie as the doors opened and admitted her to her floor. She got out and walked down the outdoor hallway, halting at her front door. With much effort, she was able to fish out her keys from the bag slung on her shoulder.

The warmth from the central heating enveloped her as soon as she stepped off the threshold, letting her backside make contact with the polished wooden floor before she released a sigh of relief. She bent down to unzip her boots, reaching over to place them on the rack by the genkan. She toed the indoor slippers resting on the doormat and stood up, dragging her feet across the hallway.

Her right hand found the door handle and slid it open, tossing her bag on the dresser and pulling the curtains aside to bathe the room with sunlight. After much struggling and lip-biting, she was able to take off her jacket that was slightly torn from the impact, exposing her injury as she brought her left arm to the light.

The skin was red and raw, but for the most part, her arm was intact. No fractures and deep wounds, she could almost see the bruising that had settled in. Moving further to examine the extent of the damage, she tried bending her hand before a sharp pang of pain shot from her wrist. It was definitely broken but not something she could remedy.

She'd have sought the help of a professional, but she didn't want to lose precious money now that the facility wouldn't operate for a long time.

 _Thank the freaking gods._

She pulled the curtains shut once more and her good hand reached for the hem of her sleeveless turtleneck and tried worming her way out of it to no avail. Biting her already bruised lip once more, she used both hands while one was screaming for relief to take the troublesome garment off her.

Once her head popped out of it, she tossed the clothing into her hamper and stripped off her pants before making her way to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror above the sink after she'd ridden herself of undergarments, turning every which way to survey for any more injury.

She found none, and plucked the hair elastic that held her disheveled hair together, dark tresses falling on her naked back, and stepped into the shower, drawing the curtains shut. The water stung her left arm and she settled for less soap, ignoring the pain throughout her ten-minute shower.

She reached for the towel hanging behind the door and dried herself before wrapping her hair with it and slipping into her bathrobe. Tiptoeing, she wrenched open the cupboard atop the sink to take the first aid kit, and she headed for the kitchen, flipping the lights on.

A stool scraped against the wood floor, and she sat herself, resting her left arm and the kit on the counter. She rolled up the sleeve of her bathrobe, wetting a ball of cotton with antiseptic before dabbing on the red skin. The sting brought tears to her eyes, and she sniffed them away.

Even when she wanted to, she couldn't blame anybody but herself. None of them solicited her help, and she brought this inconvenience upon herself.

Done with her arm, she proceeded to wrap her broken wrist with the same bandage. The sprain would heal on itself, and being jobless for most of the week would leave her plenty of time to recuperate. She was lucky her heroic stunt only left her with a broken wrist and bruised arm. For all she knew, she could've hit her head or broken her spine.

Her teeth clenched the end of the bandage as she reached over for the next length of cloth, knotting more to finish bandaging up to her palm. Clapping herself on the back for the neat work, she stood up and brought the kit back to the cupboard.

After dressing herself in her favorite sweatpants and shirt, she proceeded to write on her journal about the pandemonium that was her morning. She'd figured long before that writing things away would help her sort out her thoughts more than staring up the ceiling would.

 _Journal,_

 _You have no idea how happy I am today. Not very happy, as the lab just went up in flames and I'm practically unemployed, but happy just because I didn't blow my brains out after crashing on some stupid fence._

o-o

"I have no idea," said the bespectacled woman, looking away from the seven of them. "The fire just broke out and next thing we knew we were outside and those weird things…" She trailed off, shuddering at the memory.

The fluorescent lamp of the hospital room provided stark lighting inside, the curtains drawn shut. Three out of ten beds were occupied, and the small party of the investigators used the bedside stools to sit themselves near the foot of the second bed, on the aisle between the two rows.

"Did they come from the inside?" asked Kurama, keeping his tone flat.

The man on the bed to the right of them answered, "We don't know."

"How did you escape?"

A scratching of the head and a man, lean and sallow-faced, snapped his fingers so that they all turned to him.

"Professor Aoshi…" he began, trying the words inside his already drying mouth. "Aoshi Chiaki. She's from the Molecular Sciences Division."

"What about her?"

"She distracted the… monsters."

Inoue cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. Kurama resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at his pompous attitude and overdone attempt to seem important. "How?"

The man looked up from fiddling with the blanket. "She was riding her bike and aimed for them. We managed to run but she crashed against a fence. I was about to help her with several others but she insisted that we run."

So that was why she was crying; she must have injured herself. But Kurama was probably getting ahead of himself.

"What happened then?"

"We escaped. She managed to pick herself up, and the last I saw of her, she paused by the gate."

"And then you were brought here," Kurama finished for them. Aoshi's saving her companions could exonerate her, and it made her less of a threat than he'd initially thought. "Was there any suspicious activity in the laboratory prior to this incident?"

"None that I can recall," said the other man, looking them straight in the eye. "It was a usual workday in the facility. We worked through Sundays and sometimes stayed overnight to finish an experiment."

"Last week? Last month?" said Kurama.

"Nothing," the woman said, exasperated.

Kurama turned to look at Hiei who shook his head. _Not lying._

Yusuke detached a sneakered ankle from his knee, clapping his hands on his thighs. "All right, thank you for your answers, guys. Everything you said will stay between us."

The three witnesses did not answer. The police officers stood up and went away, closing the door behind them without preamble. With the four of them left, the sudden rise in Hiei's aura did not pass unnoticed, and the three witnesses fell backwards, heads plopping on the pillows. Kurama took out his Seed of Oblivion, repeating the process as he had done not too long ago.

When he finished, Yusuke asked, "What's next?"

"Botan," Kurama called, and a pop resounded in the room as the ferry girl appeared next to the door, oar in one hand and a manila folder in the other. Kurama smiled as she handed him the folder without his telling her.

"I knew you'd want it," she said by way of explanation.

The four males crowded to get a view of the three-page file. The first sheet contained the mug shot of a woman, calm and collected, on the top-right corner. Her dark eyes stared straight through, jet-black hair falling to the sides, framing her oval face.

Kurama's eyes darted through the profile, searching for the detail he needed.

 _Aoshi Chiaki. 27 years old. Japanese. Blood type: A._

His eyes zeroed in on a single box:

 _113-0022  
_ _Tokyo-to Bunkyo-ku Sendagi 2-chome 6-banchi 4-go-305_

His finger pointed to the address. "We go here."

"By we—?" Yusuke started.

Kurama nodded. "Hiei will come with me. We can't risk her seeing us together. That can cause her to panic or do something brash, as she's aware of our capabilities. You and Kuwabara will follow after five minutes and stand guard by the gate, staying imperceptible and unnoticed. Hiei will send the signal if something needs to be done."

"And Hiei's going with you because he can scare her off," said Yusuke, before flashing the fire demon his two fingers. "Kidding. We know how much you love prodding in someone else's mind, big guy."

"You're not being funny."

"Really, loosen up, man."

Hiei only continued to ignore the detective.

"We're not taking the police officers with us?" whispered Kuwabara.

Yusuke laughed. "You're thinking that, too, bud? They're too stiff and boring for us, right?" he said, smirking.

"What are you going to do?" asked Botan, voice too high-pitched to project the desired effect of pre-eminence.

The four males turned to look at each other, amusement dancing in their eyes. Kurama handed the folder back to Botan, sticking out a hand in front of him for her to step aside and give them access to the door.

"Whoever gets past the north wing wins," said Yusuke.

"Then what?" said Kuwabara, laughing.

Yusuke paused, the picture of deep contemplation as a thumb made its way to his chin. "The winner gets bragging rights while the loser takes the tab for the ramen later."

Not.

Kurama got hold of the door handle amidst Botan's protests, opening it to the sight of the police officers, faces set, barricading the gloomy and otherwise empty hallway.

"Inspector, we're out of here," announced Yusuke, grinning.

"What do you mean—" was all Inoue was able to sputter before the four of them broke to a run, pushing and shoving to get past each other and burst outside first.

 _Boys will be boys, after all._

o-o

Curled up on the couch and hugging her knees to her chest, Chiaki's deep-set eyes reflected off the images from the silent TV. The news about the laboratory had aired about five minutes ago, and upon hearing the jackshit that the media had come up with, she pressed the mute button.

They'd passed the truth off as the second incident of an innocent, worldly fire, and even if in an alternate reality she never had to cross paths with the beasts this morning, she wasn't stupid to buy the story and garble it up without chewing.

Someone was bound to come to a conclusion that two facilities going up in smoke within a month was terribly fishy. She was almost surprised that the nosy journalists hadn't voiced this out, but she remembered that the aired story was nonsense.

She only took comfort in the fact that no dead human body was seen in the site. At least everyone was safe, even that lousy Yamamoto. She didn't like her boss entirely, but she wouldn't wish death on anyone anytime of the day. He must be thanking his lucky stars now, wherever he was.

She took the remote control and put the TV off for good, shifting in position to stare up at the ceiling, gingerly laying her arm on her belly. The straw-colored ceiling looked almost brown without light from the outside as she had drawn the curtains shut, and the darkness of her room made her feel sleepier.

What was she going to do with her life now?

She must have started counting sheep after a minute of blankly staring up the ceiling as she pictured her life for days from today, for when the sound of the doorbell rang throughout her apartment, she jerked awake with a slight gasp. Her arm started hurting once more, and she silently cursed the intruder for the trouble.

The doorbell rang again and she strode to the window, drawing a fraction the curtain at its end farthest from the front door to see her visitors from the best viewing angle.

Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of half of the strange people she'd seen vanquishing the humanoids, and she let go of the dark blue curtain almost instantly. She glued herself to the wall, the gears in her brain turning rapidly.

How did they find her? They couldn't have known who she was, unless… She mentally slapped her face. The license plate! _Of course, Chiaki, what a way to get yourself in serious shit._

She knew she should've taken care of it. But she couldn't and so she didn't.

 _Ding dong._

This time, a man's voice registered in the haze that was her head, cool and steady, polite and inquisitive, "Professor Aoshi?"

 _Wow, they know that much?_ Her heart started hammering in her chest, her mind on overdrive, wracking her brain for a reason for them to seek her.

She remembered the news. They fabricated the truth and fed it to the public. They didn't want anyone else knowing about it and she saw them killing the… things.

Of course, just because they were busy with the hullabaloo, that didn't mean they were not aware of her making a movie out of their trouble. She didn't even bother staying hidden as she stayed for the free viewing. Popcorn would have been all that she needed.

 _Shit._ Her hand connected with her collarbone, trying to calm herself. She knew the day would come that her curiosity would take take its toll on her. If they went out of their way to find her, then she must be in serious trouble.

As silently as she could, she scurried out into the hallway and bolted for her bedroom, charily sliding the door open not farther than the space she needed to admit her frame inside. It inevitably hissed and she cussed under her breath. She lunged for her dresser, opening one of the drawers and fumbled to take her journal from inside.

"Professor Aoshi?" the voice called again.

They knew she was here, she was sure of it. She opened the small leather-bound note, flitting through her latest entry. Her hand reached out to take a pen from the mug that sat on the dresser, eyes darting to the alarm clock next to it, and in the dim light she managed to write two sentences on the line after her signature in shaky kanji:

 _Redhead and gravity-immune-head came at around 8:12 A.M. If I don't live through today, they're the suspects._

She ripped the two sheets she'd consumed, too jittery to care that the two people standing in front of her door heard the sound over the deathly silent apartment. She folded the sheets and pressed them flat before she shoved them inside her bra, patting at the garment of her shirt to make sure it wasn't bulky for them to notice.

 _Like they're going to check out your boobs, Chiaki._

"Professor Aoshi?"

With newfound resolve, she marched up the hallway. "Coming!" she yelled, voice escaping her harried as she'd meant to. "Who is it?"

"Detectives."

 _Yeah, right._ She could almost laugh at the situation, and perhaps it was panic already talking. Whoever this vile creature was, they knew how to play their game right.

But who was to say she didn't stand a chance?

She switched to her outdoor slippers and took one, calming breath as she placed one eye on the peephole. The two persons were still standing outside, the redhead the face of patience while the other was, well, not.

Her right hand found the metal baseball bat set by the door she kept for times like this before she slid the door open with her left hand, the pain surging through her body making her feel more alert. She pushed her head into the small space as wide as the length of the chain she didn't unlatch and forced a smile to her visitors, playing off as innocent.

She knew her attempt at preservation wasn't the best in form and tact but she was trying.

"How may I help you?" she asked, polite and curt.

The redhead bowed to her as the midget stared her in the eye. "Good morning, Professor."

Chiaki's eyes almost widened as she realized the redhead was, in fact, a man, the one who possessed the voice that had been calling her out. "Good morning…?"

Her unspoken question was answered as the two of them held up their police IDs and golden badges. She had yet to blink when they flipped them shut and tucked them away. If she'd been less suspicious, she'd have thought it was nothing; but she was sure it was deliberate.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

The redhead smiled at her before gesturing towards his companion. "He's Hiei and I'm Kurama. We're agents from the NPA."

A gurgle resonated from her throat as a laugh almost escaped her. "I didn't know the National Police Agency lets their agents use funny aliases. Is there someone called Fuji and Asama?"

Kurama the ginger offered her another smile. "I'm afraid there is."

"That's… cool." Chiaki raised an eyebrow before she cleared her throat. "What business do you have?"

"Pardon my intrusion, but would you rather that we discuss out in the open?"

Her eyebrow shot up once more. _Nuh-uh. Can't let you get inside, smartass._ For all she knew, they'd strangle her the moment she let them get past the threshold.

Her grip on the baseball bat tightened as she willed her voice to sound flippant and confident. "Surely it's not something that would require you to apprehend me as I have not killed anybody? I think I can manage."

The redhead's lips quirked, his smile faltering. Even then he didn't take her eyes off her. A moment of silence passed between them as they sized each other up. Even as death loomed over her, she was only half-convinced the soft-featured girlish man was anything but a professional slayer.

"She's safe, Kurama," said Hiei, the statement abrupt. His eyes had fixed on his taller companion who turned his head slightly to look at him.

"Safe?" The word was out before Chiaki could stop herself.

"Safe and oblivious," Hiei amended, fixing his red eyes on her.

Her heart jumped to her throat. How could she have not noticed it before? No, she was sure they were black only a while back. But now, they were… crimson… blood-red.

As far as red eyes went…

Her gaze transferred to the redhead without her noticing, and she whispered, more to herself, "Demons."

Kurama inclined his head, smiling again. "The professor's very perceptive, Hiei. Are you sure she doesn't know anything?"

"I am, fox."

 _Fox?!_

As though he heard her internal exclamation, Kurama turned to her once more. "Yes, Professor. Demons. There are more of us, and you should be careful."

Chiaki's throat ran dry. For the life of her, she couldn't summon the right words to come out of her mouth. Her head was abuzz. It had been years since the demon shenanigans started cropping up everywhere but she'd never crossed paths with them, much less spoken with them.

And the demons had been behaving themselves well. So… why?

"No one is safe, and what you saw this morning is not something you should have. It was already too much for you to encounter those creatures, and no human should've seen any of it."

The way this person used "human" in his sentence… it was so distant and detached.

"I'm sorry but you'll have to remain… safe and oblivious."

"What—?"

Her eyes widened as Kurama held his palm up. For once she was able to think fast; her hand let go of the baseball bat—the sharp clanging of metal upon stone momentarily jarring her off her gears—before it connected with the lower half of her face. As the coarse yellow powder shot through the small distance between her and the redhead, she pulled herself inside and kicked the door closed, fumbling for the lock as she pressed her back against the wood.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing? Who are you?" she yelled through her fingers. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, trying not to inhale any of the powder but still craving more oxygen as her sight grew dim.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._ She must have inhaled some anyway.

She was waiting for their reaction, but a moment passed… and another. She was already dizzy and hyperventilating, ready to collapse on her knees.

When she thought she was on her way to Faintersville, laughter echoed through the material of the door. For a moment she thought it was dark, evil laughter—the kind that villains laughed after getting off their rockers—but as her vision cleared a bit, she realized it was a genuine, amused laugh, ringing in her ears.

"Professor Aoshi," said Kurama, still laughing. "We only wanted to alter your memories. It's always safer to be oblivious."

Chiaki couldn't help it. She took a deep breath before yelling again, muffled by her fingers, "Quit playing me for a fool, you liar. I don't trust you and I'm not in the mood for games. I'd rather die than forget your names after this."

Hiei's voice was urgent. "Kurama, let's go. She doesn't know anything."

 _Screw you, I know things! You're demons and you killed those… things!_

"All right, then."

She thought they'd leave but a gentle knocking on the door made her jump out of her skin.

"Professor, are you still in there?"

Chiaki almost rolled her eyes, still breathing into her palm. If he was trying to feign concern…

"You should know that we're not here to harm you. But as my partner saw fit, you're off the hook."

Hearing this coming out of the redhead's mouth made her realize that they had indeed held her life dangling by their fingers only a minute ago. The thought itself brought to Chiaki's eyes tears of relief, and she took all her resolve not to sob there and then.

"Professor?" Kurama's voice came off more than concerned. "You've done well today. We're sorry for the trouble. Stay… safe and oblivious. Goodbye."

If only she wasn't feeling as relieved as she was, she'd have lashed out at them to point out the fact that she didn't even sign up for their game to receive a prize for having "done well." She didn't want any of it. At all.

She didn't dare move even as their footsteps faded into the background of her still racing heart. She just escaped death and something worse… ignorance.

The tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she let out a shuddering breath, letting her hand fall to her side as she sank to the cold stone floor, dragging her knees to her chest as she all but willed the tears to go away.

o-o

"She… what?" Kuwabara all but sputtered in his ramen, a bit of noodle sticking to his chin as he gaped openly at Hiei.

"Hid her journal entry in her undergarment," said Kurama, unable to help himself from smiling.

The three of them busted out laughing, faces red from the mental image only Hiei could conjure perfectly. The fire demon sat quietly, glaring at them as he chewed.

"And what did she write in the journal entry?" asked Yusuke.

"Her account of the incident," Kurama answered for Hiei who ignored Yusuke altogether, "and, 'Redhead and gravity-immune-head came at around 8:12 A.M. If I don't live through today, they're the suspects.'"

Yusuke shook his head in disbelief as he clapped his hands, still laughing. "You gotta give it to her."

Kurama couldn't agree more. It was obvious that Hiei himself saluted the professor for thinking ahead. It was a desperate but a lucky measure that she took.

 _Boys will be boys but chivalry is embraced by many a people, human or demon._

* * *

A/N:

* genkan = Japanese entryway: the part of a house or apartment where you take your shoes off (I don't think "entryway" is an accurate translation hence the usage)

* Japanese addresses follow a format that starts from the biggest to the smallest unit:

\- Prefecture ("ken") - with suffixes "to" for Tokyo, "do" for Hokkaido, "fu" for Kyoto and Osaka as exceptions

\- Municipality - (1) "shi" for cities, (2) "ku" for wards, (3) "cho" or "machi" for town or "mura" or "son" for villages (1 being the largest and 3 being the smallest type of municipality)

\- City district - "chome" (number is assigned based on proximity to center of municipality)

\- City block - "banchi" or "ban"

\- House/building number - "go"

\- Apartment number

\- (not really an area) Postal Code - _e.g._ 113-0022

So, Chiaki's address ( _113-0022_ _Tōkyō-to Bunkyō-ku Sendagi 2-chōme 6-banchi 4-gō-305_ ) means she lives in Apartment 305, 4th Bldg., 6th Block, Sendagi 2-chome, Bunkyo Ward, Tokyo Prefecture. If you were to write her a letter coming from overseas, you'd probably want to write it this way to save you ink and space:

Aoshi Chiaki  
2-6-4-305 Sendagi  
Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 113-0022

... or if the post's coming from Japan:

Aoshi Chiaki #305  
6-4 Sendagi 2-chome  
Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo-to 113-0022

Japanese addressing system is pretty elaborate and I suggest you read up on it if you'd like to understand better (sweats). The places (save for the numbers) used in Chiaki's address actually do exist.

* So again, thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter and to those who added this story to their faves and alerts! You rock my socks!

* Enjoyed the chapter? Didn't? Please drop a review! I need to know what you think! See you! :)


	5. II - Theory

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part II

 _"Explanation separates us from astonishment, which is the only gateway to the incomprehensible."_

 _– Eugène Ionesco, Découvertes_

o-o

 _Theory_

Hitching a ride to the Reikai meant having to look for Botan who, more or less, was occupied with her duties if not with other dealings that entailed Yusuke's involvement as well as theirs, by default.

But fortunately, Kurama had mastered the art of crossing to the other realm without anyone else's help. He laid himself down on his bed, fully dressed on a Sunday morning, before slipping into the familiar trance of being simultaneously awake and asleep.

It was as different a feeling as any, one that many would be frightened of since it was technically inducing oneself to sleep paralysis, as the soul lifted itself off one's body. His last thought before he felt the stiff, now less suffocating jolt, was Yusuke's head colliding with a baseball bat to spare him the difficulty of an inexperienced.

It had been years ago, but it didn't fail to make him smile even as he slipped away.

Kurama opened his eyes and found himself standing on the Road of Yomi, feet away from the double doors that led to the Hall of Judgment. The wind softly blew his sideburns astray, and his hand automatically connected with a lock of hair to keep it out of his face as he walked over to the intercom.

He could've broken his way in like in the good old days. The alarms would go off and send the whole place into bedlam, and he would get a good laugh then get away with it just because he personally knew the King. But he thought against it, as the times had become more demanding of serious sentiments and he was in no mood to pull a prank on anyone.

He pressed the doorbell and spoke to the intercom, "This is Kurama, asking passage from Koenma."

With a resounding creak, the doors opened instantly, and he admitted himself into the dark, tiled hallway lined up by towering pillars that held up the rafters supporting the massive stone roof. After years of walking the same path, he'd become less daunted by the general vibe it gave off. He'd realized since that it was actually the idea, as one should only ever walk the path once upon their death.

He stood to the next set of doors, and spoke once more to the intercom. The sliding doors revealed to him the disorderly office, ogres running about and yelling orders at each other with the bright overhead lights providing a sense of urgency to the air as was fitting. Kurama failed to comprehend why Koenma never opted to have his office transferred somewhere more peaceful, but he guessed it was one that came with running this division for hundreds of years.

He stopped in front of the King's desk and bowed in greeting.

"Kurama, I knew you'd come."

The addressed only tilted his head at the toddler sitting on the high chair, the towering piles of paperwork untouched and neglected at the moment on his desk. He knew he was stalling the King from getting his other tasks done in time, but he needed to know.

"That should mean you're aware of what I came here for, Koenma."

It had been a week since the second attack and three from the first. Surely, the Reikai had come up with the test results. No matter how occupied it appeared to be, Koenma's office always had to accommodate more work as they came and went.

Koenma released a sigh—one of relief more than exasperation—, his pacifier bobbing up and down just once before he yelled for the ogre named George.

A screech of skin on tiles and the blue fellow appeared next to the toddler, harried and panting. "Lord Koenma, you called for me?"

Koenma rolled his eyes. "If you're not George, then I didn't."

"Lord Koenma—!"

The toddler flicked his wrist to halt the ogre's whines of oppression and said, "Get me facsimiles of the files of Cases 2003-A-104 and 2003-I-104. If you're not back in five minutes, I'm sending you off as a ferryman to the River Styx for the rest of your weary life."

After choking with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, George galloped away, leaving dust hanging in the air at his wake.

Kurama laughed lightly. "You really enjoy getting a rise out of them, don't you?"

"It kills boredom," said Koenma, gesturing for him to take the seat in front of his table. "But sometimes it gets too routinely it becomes just as boring."

Kurama cocked his head, a small smile on his face. "Maybe next time I can help."

The King raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't wish it."

"But it's for free."

"There's no truth in the saying that the best things in life are free."

Kurama chuckled, crossing his legs as he leant on the backrest of the client's chair. "If you say so."

The toddler cast his eyes on the ceiling, a picture of exhaustion. "I was actually going to send the file this afternoon, but as you've come to collect it, I think that spares me one less messenger from the workforce even for a while. Things are too rowdy the way they are."

Kurama decided he didn't have to answer; he was far too anxious to be less than eager to find out about the results. It didn't even matter that Koenma got off with free messengering through him. It was a fair bargain, after all.

George was scuttling back, two manila folders clutched in one hand. As he came to a stop, bending backwards at his knees to brake his momentum, Kurama was positive his bare feet were smoking. The ogre didn't mind though, too relieved to have made it in time to care about the blisters that would sprout later on.

He thrust the folders in Koenma's face, one finger lifting to point to the huge clock hanging on the wall from across the room. Koenma lifted his lazy eyes to check and flicked his wrist once more to dismiss the disheveled ogre who bared his yellowing teeth at them in delight before bowing and sauntering away.

"He's impressive as always," said Kurama for the ogre's benefit.

Koenma opened one of the folders. "He knows what I'm capable of," he said, eyes on the documents. He flitted through them briefly before handing both folders to Kurama.

His finger slid under the cover of the first folder, flipping it open to reveal the five-page document. He silently scanned through them, skipping the overview, eyes searching for the conclusions.

He paused at the fifth page, focusing on the red-inked kanji symbols.

 _In theory, the creatures were found to be hanyou._

He suppressed the urge to voice out the strange tone from the choice of words and instead opened the second folder automatically to the last page. Unsurprisingly, he found the same passage.

"In theory?" said Kurama, looking up at Koenma. He knew what it meant, but that didn't mean it made sense.

o-o

Chiaki blew hair off her face as she set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter with much effort, thanks to her still injured hand. It had been almost a week since she'd acquired the handicap, since she'd last seen the redhead and the little demon.

Taking off her face mask, she tossed it to the trash bin to join its forgotten sisters. Since the incident, she'd been wearing one whenever she had to cross the front door. She took it off at the gate as she headed out and wore it again as she arrived. It was most unlike her to be paranoid, but as she'd gathered what little was left of the yellow powder by her door and examined them under the microscope, she was unable to identify the species the pollen grains came from.

Thinking about it for the better part of every hour, how was she supposed to know? The plant should have come from the demon's realm and, for all intents and purposes, be more dangerous than the redhead cared to tell her.

But it was not only the yellow powder that she found after she'd decided that it was safe for her to venture out into the open. Inches away from the threshold were a pair of dark, round objects, as small as ten-yen coins, glinting. With her tweezers, she'd taken one of it and held it to the light.

The moment she'd realized it was a contact lens, she let it drop into a separate plastic specimen holder before taking everything away with her latex-gloved hand. She grimly noted that she should've figured the mystery behind the demonic eyes sooner.

She didn't, of course. Which was expected of her. Evidence should always weigh more than assumptions, and not putting faith into anything without enough reason to was a habit of hers.

Sinking into one of the chairs by the dining table, she closed her eyes and hung her head resignedly. Walking from the local grocer's was a pain without a good left hand. She was bent on cursing the gods for giving her such a hard time, but it wasn't like she didn't choose to play heroine out of mere stupidity.

Besides, she was thankful enough that she was given leave from teaching for a week without deductions to her salary. It was a stretch coming from the faculty, as she didn't have the best working relations with the rest of the teachers. And the students.

Not to mention that the demons didn't bother her for days.

She hadn't heard from her colleagues since the incident, and it didn't strike her as odd. Knowing that the demons had set out to erase her memory of the incident, she was certain they had done so to them. She was probably the only one lucky enough to have escaped the pollen wrath, and she was unable to fully convince herself that she somehow outsmarted them.

Why they'd let her go about, fully aware of the truth, was only really because of either of two things: either they thought they'd scared her enough to stay out of trouble or they thought she wasn't worth the trouble.

Somehow she wasn't really convinced that she was, in essence, spared.

She began stacking the contents of the grocery bag on the counter, separating the dry and wet goods as she went. A cigarette found its way to her mouth, and she worked wordlessly, crossing the few feet to the fridge and cupboards.

She was almost done with setting the kitchen into some order when the doorbell rang. Cursing the blasted person who cut her smoking spree short, she snuffed out the cigarette on the ashtray by the counter. It was necessary lest something unlikely happened; like the wind picking up speed and the stick getting carried off to the flammable stuff and…

Chiaki scoffed. She'd gotten really out of it lately. The wind wouldn't even get past the shuttered windows.

Plucking another white-and-blue disposable mask from the box sitting atop the fridge, she strode to the door and peeped through the hole. No one was in sight, and against her better judgment, she took her ever dependable baseball bat from its perch and held it with resolve.

She unlocked the door and unlatched the chain, opening it as suddenly as she'd deemed enough to take aback whoever it was who thought it funny to prank someone on a Sunday morning.

Waiting a beat for some reaction, Chiaki stayed inside, still clutching her baseball bat. Nobody breathed the same air she did for several moments, and deciding that it was a clear coast, she stuck her head out.

No one was in sight.

Chiaki's eyes roved the open walkway, blinking out the emptiness, with only the subtle wind whistling against the trees lining up the parking lot. Her heart calmed down as she released a breath, and she let her gaze drop on the threshold.

Startled, she almost dropped the bat and maimed her foot when she realized a parcel was innocently posited merely eight inches from where she stood.

She shrunk back into her apartment, sliding the door closed and leaving a small space to hold out the bat and poke at the package the size of a large shoebox. Someone leaving it outside then bolting for their lives screamed a threat. It was definitely dubious, as whoever left it had not the mind to put it in the post box by the complex entryway. It was either it was set to harm a single person ( _me_ ) or it was meant for her to find immediately.

By the looks of the parcel—no writings, no postage stamps, no anything but tape that held it together and closed—, she settled for harmful.

The bat found its way to poke at the deviously innocent box, sliding it a few inches to the right. Chiaki all but shrieked and banged the door closed, taking a mighty leap to the wooden floor of the hallway, outdoor slippers and all, and skidding to a halt, waiting for the worst to come.

 _One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five._

Nothing.

 _Thirty seconds._

Silence.

With bated breath, she inched her way back to the door and slid it slightly open, risking to get her face blown to bits as she poked at the package again.

Nothing.

No explosives or knives thrown her way.

Footsteps echoed from the direction of the lifts and Chiaki dissolved inside her apartment once more, pressing her back to the door as she waited for the person to get a decent distance from her unit.

Much to her chagrin, the person actually stopped in front of her door and rang the doorbell.

"Professor Aoshi?"

She took a moment to roll her eyes and put the bat down soundlessly before she opened the door and smiled at Kitagawa.

"Ah, Professor, good morning," said the housewife, bowing to her. "Are you all right?" she asked, noting the mask Chiaki was wearing.

Chiaki sniffed and cleared her throat, deciding to play along. "I went down with a cold."

Kitagawa adopted a solemn look. "Oh, I hope you get well soon."

"Thank you," said Chiaki. "What was it, by the way?"

She gestured towards the box with the hand not holding her groceries. "I thought the parcel must be yours."

 _No shit,_ thought Chiaki. She bared her teeth hidden under the mask, hoping that, in effect, her eyes would take the impression of a smile and nodded. "Ah, yes, I was just collecting it. Thank you, Kitagawa."

"You're welcome, Professor."

Either Kitagawa didn't know a parcel without markings smelled fishy or she was just… dumb. Chiaki couldn't blame her. Being a housewife day in and day out must've messed with the gears in her head, leaving them rusty after prolonged disuse.

She almost felt sorry for the thirty-something woman. There was a reason Chiaki never thought of settling down with a man who didn't want their wives to earn more than they did. Call it modern feminism or whatnot, but Chiaki wouldn't wish to live only in the shadow of a man and waste away inside the house to come at his beck and call.

Maybe she just really hated their being full of themselves most of the time.

Chiaki bowed to the housewife as she ambled to the unit two doors down and waited until she was inside before using the bat to drag the troublesome package into her apartment.

It was surprisingly light, and although she was certain bombs and other explosives shouldn't weigh like this, it didn't deter her from thinking it was something else entirely harmful. For all she knew, it might contain anthrax or some other microbiological weaponry, or that powder Kurama was bent on using on her. Just because they'd let her go that time, that didn't mean they would never do it again.

After she'd set the box to a far corner in the genkan, she made her way to the kitchen to fetch a pair of latex gloves, a cutter, and a spray bottle of ethanol.

Crouching by the door, she painstakingly cut through the edges of the box with one hand and lifted the flap away with the blade, spraying alcohol frantically at her immediate surroundings and into the package for a good thirty seconds.

Deeming it safe to check, she took a deep breath before leaning forward to peer into the sodden package, revealing a brown, paperback text inside, the cover wrapped with celluloid gleaming with the accumulated alcohol through the light coming from small glass window above the doorframe. Chiaki twisted her head, making out the broad, black, and brushstroke letters on the cover, and they read:

 _Youkai: A Biological Perspective_

 _Y. K._

Her breath hitched in her throat, and Chiaki dropped the blade as her fingers closed in on the book, dripping from the alcohol. She read the engraved letters once more, and lingered on " _Y. K."_

 _Who could it be…?_

o-o

"In theory?" Yusuke said, echoing Kurama's earlier question to Koenma.

Even in the dim lighting of the diner, Kurama could see the faint lines on the detective's face, incredulous and puzzling. He held the papers Kurama had dropped by to give them, and Kuwabara held the same expression after snatching the documents from a still shocked Yusuke.

"Hanyou?" Kuwabara muttered.

Hiei, who said nothing, turned to look outside the window instead, waiting for Kurama to explain.

"From the findings, it can be concluded that the creatures were half-demons. They had the physical manifestations of such, but as the first of them possessed none of the sacred energies, the Reikai wasn't able to find out how they could be hanyou."

"And the ones from the second attack?" asked Yusuke.

"They had no youkai but had reiki. Which is again different from that expected of hanyou."

Yusuke knitted his eyebrows, confused. "But I am a hanyou…"

"You're not," said Kurama, holding up a hand before Yusuke could open his mouth to protest. "It took forty-four generations before the dormant genes Raizen passed onto his offspring were expressed because of a trigger. You are, strictly speaking, only about one-eight trillionth demon, Yusuke. It's common to mistake the effects of atavism as that of being half-demon, but they're essentially different."

A moment of silence passed as they all let that sink in. As Koenma had said, the case was most singular, coming from the fact that no one could explain the findings. For now, all they could do was speculate, and suffice it to say that not even the Reikai could come up with plausible explanations.

Which was why Kurama had put off going home to discuss it with the rest of the team. But from the look on their faces, it was turning out that none of them could shed light to the mystery. In fact, they would need answers.

He should've known sooner.

"What does it mean?" Kuwabara finally spoke. "That they're a different kind of hanyou?"

"It's possible they're a completely different lineage of creatures. Different species, even," said Kurama, broadcasting the first things he'd established with himself upon exiting Koenma's office.

"But the Reikai held no records of them till now," said Yusuke.

"Exactly. It's almost as if they'd evolved."

But it was a backwards way of evolving, Kurama was inclined to say. Evolution was supposed to entail the passing on of favorable traits, and the lack of all or one of the sacred energies would not render anybody well-adapted to the world. That evolution took place every several hundreds of years didn't even count.

The three realms didn't undergo vast changes over the past decade, and that should be enough for Kurama to let go of the notion as it wouldn't require any living creature to adapt to new environments. But he didn't because it was as good a reason as any at this point into their investigation.

Kuwabara decided it was incredulous. "With 'as if' as the keywords."

"Of course," said Kurama. "However, we can't dismiss it. Anything is possible at the moment."

"Hold it," said Kuwabara, frowning at the papers he was reading again. "It says here that the creatures had no souls."

This captured the attention of both Yusuke and Hiei.

"Say what?" Yusuke was sputtering.

Kurama nodded. "The Reikai had no clue why that is."

"We're on a dead-end, aren't we?"

"Seems like it."

Yusuke scratched at his head. "What do we do then? The witnesses know nothing."

"I'm lost. I've read lots of material over my thousand years of living and I've never seen anything like this before," said Kurama, more to himself than anyone else. "We can only seek the help of other people."

"Who?" said Yusuke.

Kurama sighed, defeated. "That's the question now, isn't it?"

"But don't you find it weird? The attacks all took place in laboratories."

Their reactions to this statement were cut off as a single beeping sound came from their pockets, making them jump.

"Botan," the three of them said, whipping out the compact communicator.

"Boys, there's another lab attack."

At the news, each one of them had their own rendition of their shock.

Kurama settled for silence.

o-o

The steady drone of the radio served as white noise to Chiaki's otherwise silent apartment. She'd been staring at the empty patch of cream wall across from the dining table, her right hand holding the book that she'd taken for reading after she finished her lunch. It proved safe after much inspection, and now that she'd read a good hundred pages into it, she was tired and confused.

Not that she didn't understand any of it; in fact, the text was anything like she'd read before, complete with illustrations and sketches. But only of the anatomy of… demons.

But what surprised her was that the text was handwritten, the sketches inked, the pages yellow as though hailing from at least a decade back. As she scanned the pages, she felt like it was more of an investigative journal—a daily report on findings—than a textbook. A daily record too elaborate for her to dismiss as a ploy.

The handwriting was eerily familiar, and the book's dubious origin kept her at the edge of her seat.

She shouldn't have read it but she did anyway. And now she felt like she'd been living a lie her entire life. When she lifted her eyes off the hundredth page, her apartment seemed smaller.

She was never aware that the science of demons was a thing. She'd thought that whoever left the book at her doorstep must have wanted to pull a sick prank on her, but even before she opened it, she was half-convinced that none of this was meant for her to find funny.

Humans existed and had their sciences. Demons, as she'd been proved wrong about years ago, existed and should therefore have their own sciences. The adage that science was a means of understanding the nuances and bettering the life of _human_ kind had made its way deep into her, and right now, it was difficult to grasp that anything supernatural could actually be.

Biological studies entailed all forms of life—human and animal and plant and… demon.

Demons were painted in folktales conceived by the ancestors and continued to be a ruse to her even after she'd gotten wind of the news that the "barrier" had been taken down, that demons and humans could finally coexist as they had eons ago.

But only a week prior, everything she'd clung onto and believed to be true seemed to have been all for naught.

She could see things— _ghosts_ —even when she was younger and she'd dismissed them as a figment of her imagination. Nobody saw the ghosts except for her, and nobody talked about them. She kept mum, ignored the apparitions even when they realized she could see them, and, in fear of being labelled a weirdo, didn't try convincing anybody that she did, in fact, saw them… down the hall, by the river bend, on the highway.

When she'd finally learned to latch onto absolute truth founded on empirical evidence, she was able to push the things she'd rather not believe in to the back of her mind.

But only a week ago, everything changed. Now, holding the book in her hands made her feel less of the scientist she'd established herself to be.

They said being a person of science should make you ready for changes, as science was a constant cycle of proving and disproving. Einstein once said that the more he studied the universe, the more he believed in a higher power.

Was this it? Was this the "higher power" the renowned genius kept talking about? That there were actual things beyond the explanation of science?

It was a hazy notion in itself, as the book she now held proved that even the supernatural was tangible, and could be studied in the language she thought only humans knew.

But again, maybe that was the reason there was a "higher power" responsible of all of this in the first place. That there existed another world and that there were actual gods she only worshipped out of habit and not out of faith.

She so wanted to bang her head on the table right now.

Who was this "Y. K." and why did they have to give her the book?

She started as a single word from the radio registered in her thoughts, and she dropped the book as she turned her full attention to the device.

 _"_ — _reported this month. The fire, which started in one of the units of the research facility, left three casualties and six injured."_

"What the freaking hell," Chiaki muttered, rising from her seat. Someone actually died this time, and she was certain it had everything to do with last week's incident.

Her eyes roved the kitchen, trying to find her bearings.

 _Okay, calm down. Let's deal with this one by one:_

 _(1) You got into this jackshit strictly six days ago because apparently, the sweet things decided to play in Stella-Bio.  
_ _(2) You were spared from the pollen storm because somehow, they decided you're not worth the trouble or you somehow managed to outsmart them, which is really very unlikely.  
_ _(3) You received a book on demons left in front of your doorstep and you've read it since it didn't try to kill you.  
_ _(4) Kurama and Hiei will most probably be involved in this third lab incident. And they are demons.  
_ _(5) They can probably give you answers with regards to the book.  
_ _(6) They are most probably in the lab by now._

Chiaki dashed to her bedroom to get her jacket. They'd most likely do something underhanded if she confronted them in private, so she'd better come up with a plan to back them to a figurative corner. Even as she was walking to the front door, she couldn't decide whether this would be another tour de force with death, and the thought made her pause.

She couldn't really trust them now, could she?

But she was safe. They didn't do anything outward to cause her more trouble in six days.

The moment she stopped in her tracks, she realized she hadn't turned off the radio. It was now spouting a fresh garbled string of words that reached her ears, and she did a double-take when she heard a name.

 _"Professor Yamamoto Koji."_

Thinking that she was only imagining it, an overwhelming sense of urgency pushed her to dash down the hallway, using her good hand to brake her momentum as she grabbed the kitchen counter and listened over the sound of her own heart beating.

 _"The scientist was found dead in his apartment at Hongo, Bunkyo-ku, at approximately 11:38 this morning."_

Chiaki automatically glanced at the clock hanging by the wall, reading 12:01 in the afternoon.

 _"The police are considering the angle of suicide as there was a note found held by the body, which, after investigation, did not show any signs of physical trauma and assault."_

 _Suicide? Yamamoto Koji?_

" _Yamamoto is a renowned scientist from Stella-Bio and a professor at Tokyo Daigaku."_

Chiaki suddenly felt weak in the knees and she grasped at the countertop desperately. Even with all the things going on inside her head, she couldn't help but draw one, reverberating conclusion, the only one that made sense to her now.

Her eyes locked on the book innocently sitting on the table. The brushstroke letters became even bolder and blacker to her as she realized who the author was.

It was Yamamoto Koji.

* * *

A/N:

(edit #1, 09:06 PST, 08.07.15)  
* Yusuke is 1/8,796,093,022,208 demon. Raizen's offspring is 1/2 demon. If it took 44 generations before Raizen's genes were expressed as a phenotype (Yusuke), then it means the half-demon-ness of the original was halved 43 times = 1/(2^43) = 1/8,796,093,022,208. I was bent on letting Kurama pronounce the exact value but no, that would give the boys a headache. Hence I settled for one-eight trillionth. I had to think about it again before I realized the initial value was very wrong.

(edit #2, 09:06 PST, 08.07.15)  
* The case file cataloging system used in this story follows this format: YYYY-Hiragana-CaseNumber. The hiragana characters should signify the order at which cases of virtually the same nature occur. In this chapter, I used A and I as hiragana characters to mean that under Case 104 there are two incidents reported to have the same nature and that they're the first two with such nature.

Yey! So we're actually down to this chapter! I know that it's taking a bit long for the real plot to get rolling but I hope you've enjoyed this chapter nonetheless. I need to set things up, and I'm going by the outline I've made. So yeah.

How did you find the chapter? Please let me know by reviewing! I really need your comments and insights on the goings-on in the chapters. It gets me going and it helps me improve my writing.

Thank you to all who reviewed and added this story to their faves and alerts! You keep me fueled!

See you next chapter! :)


	6. II - Atypical

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part II

 _"Life's not a spectator sport. If watchin' is all you're gonna do, then you're gonna watch your life go by without ya."_

– Laverne, _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ (Disney Movie)

o-o

 _Atypical_

The first thing that registered when he crossed the threshold between sleep and wakefulness was how dark his room was. Kurama rolled over to his back, a hand connecting to his face as he blearily sought the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, reading seven in the morning.

He pulled himself up to a sitting position and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawning for the first time for today. Standing up, he stretched his hands above his head, and hopped a bit in place, rousing his sore and tired muscles.

Silently, he descended the stairs and washed his face in the bathroom before proceeding to the kitchen to prepare his obligatory breakfast. It was almost a normal, human morning if not for the thoughts that plagued his half-awake head.

The beasts from yesterday possessed youki, and as was the case for the past two incidents, nobody knew where they came from. It was the third attack, and all of them were positive that the humanoids weren't anything but hanyou. With youki but no reiki.

Again, a paradox.

The four of them were definitely caught in a rut, and right now, nobody had a lead to solving the mystery of the year.

Kurama swallowed his egg roll without much gusto, washing off the gunk that stuck to his teeth with his freshly brewed tea. Recently, his breakfast had become more dull and uninteresting.

Thirty minutes later, he emerged from his house dressed in his suit and tie, briefcase in hand. He started for the familiar route to the train station, trying to feel more pleasant than he did for the sake of his morning in the office.

It was almost the same routine. He came and he went; he made excuses when he was needed by the Reikai. It was the reason he never got promoted to any higher position even after ten years of working in his stepfather's company, but he never regretted any of it. He found it more important to secure a lasting relationship with the people who would influence his life in the long run, when he moved on from this sedentary human life.

Kurama had no qualms with living out the rest of his human life in the same routine, but sometimes he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

The usual train that stopped at his station today was brimming with passengers, and with much shoving from the "people pushers", he with the rest of the crowd were admitted to the train and he sealed a spot by the door opposite the entry and exit points, clinging to the safety handrail as he let the view of the city pass by in a blur.

It would take him three stops to get to the next district. The same old routine.

Not even fifteen minutes later, he was walking on the familiar streets lined up by shops and delicatessens, all only starting their Mondays that would prove busy. He passed by the humble greengrocer's already brimming with early shoppers, mostly housewives who'd sent their children to school and their husbands to work. He could picture his mother lining up in another shop at this same hour, pushing her way through the crowded morning market.

Kurama turned the last corner and proceeded to enter the lobby of a high-rise building smack in the center of the district, taking out his ID as he passed by the automated gates. Even with the volume of employees arriving, nobody had to wait in line as others pressed their cards onto the scanner.

With that protocol over with, Kurama strode to the lifts, pressing the call button and waiting with the rest of the employees who'd filed themselves behind him. The doors opened with a ding, and Kurama pressed the button to the twentieth floor as he passed, standing on the corner farthest from the doors to stay out of the way of those who came in.

Soon, the car was empty save for him and an older employee who kept his quiet at the opposite corner, briefcase clutched in front of him. Kurama was first to alight, and he wordlessly walked the rest of the way to a glass door at the end of the hallway, which he pushed to admit himself inside one of the divisions.

Brightly lit, the office was packed with desks and cubicles, a few potted indoor plants by the glass windows to give the place less of a stressful feel. Which was quite futile; after years of working here, Kurama'd known better than to think it was anything but hectic.

"Minamino, good morning," said the huge fellow who occupied the cubicle next to Kurama's, sipping his morning coffee and turning to nod at him.

"Good morning, Nakahara," Kurama said, nodding as he passed him by. He circled the length of his cubicle before he was able to deposit his briefcase on the table, taking off his jacket and draping it on the backrest.

A shift on his peripheral view tipped him off that Nakahara had stuck his head past the divider for their routine chatter. "How did the weekend go?"

Kurama sat himself on his chair and spun it slightly to face his colleague to seem polite. "Nothing of consequence. Yours?"

"My wife had a field day after my boy went home with a black-eye." Nakahara was laughing.

"Your son is how old?"

He shouldn't have asked that, but he did anyway.

His officemate didn't seem to mind as he answered, "Six."

Nakahara's eyes sparkling with amusement and something else entirely— _pride_ —told Kurama that he wasn't fazed that his son had had his beginnings with violence at such an early age.

Not that Kurama really cared.

"What did he do?"

"Got into a fight, of course!" said Nakahara, still laughing, patting his rounded belly. "Oh, how I wish I'd seen him throw his first punch."

As if to underline his point, Nakahara swung a fist in the air, complete with sound effects to imitate the action of a street fight only Yusuke and Kuwabara were familiar with.

 _Not really._

Kurama couldn't help but smile at the grown man's seemingly carefree attitude. "Your wife must have been really worked up."

"You have no idea! She was sobbing, worried that our boy's made enemies with the neighbors' children. But he said it was only in defense. My wife wouldn't rest until we apologized, but the family next door beat us to it," said Nakahara. "Nothing but a schoolboy scuffle."

Kurama would have said something about scuffles not being everyday, but he was cut off when a figure stopped in front of his cubicle and latched onto the white divider. He looked up to see the face of his stepbrother.

"Yo, big brother. How do you do?" said Shuuchi, grinning from ear to ear, nodding so that his dark bangs momentarily covered his eyes before he pushed them away.

 _Mother must have served him a king's breakfast._

"Hello, Shuuichi," Kurama said, tilting his head good-naturedly. "I'm fine. How's everyone?"

"We're good. Mom wants you to join us for dinner sometime."

"I'll try," said Kurama, smiling. It had been five years since he moved out of the house, when hiding the fact that he worked for the Reikai became more and more taxing with a house full of three other grown, conscious adults. They had become less easy to fool, and even he with his expertise in lying felt the pressure.

"Don't give me that. We'll see you on Thursday, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Shuuichi gave him a mock salute before disappearing behind the door that led to the executive's office. Eleven years later, the two of them had grown less of step-siblings. Shuuichi had gone from the awkward thirteen-year-old to a confident bachelor, rivaling Kurama's own. It was an embarrassment that his stepbrother secured a position higher than his, but he played it cool as he needed the more flexible hours for when he was summoned by Koenma.

It was really either that or let go of one job. The latter was an option that didn't appeal to him or to his teammates even if it scarred his pride. In the Ningenkai.

Nakahara proceeded to talk about the commissions he secured the past week, and Kurama listened with one ear as he read through his own records. He was awfully behind his target, and he was hoping to make up for it this week.

The rest of the day passed without incidence, even with the many calls Kurama had to make and answer to secure accounts for the firm and to keep up with the others. He was lucky to have secured a deal with one established electrical company, and although it took a bit more pushing on his side, he was able to surpass his daily quota for a few thousand yen before the clock ticked six.

He exited the building feeling better than he had in the morning, and he decided to drop by the local café a mere block away to have some snacks before he went home. It would take at least three trains before he'd get his ride, as the afternoon crowd of students and workers rushed. The moment he entered the dimly-lit establishment, the aroma of coffee and tea with pastry wafted through his nostrils, and he settled into his favorite booth by the huge, plate glass windows, hidden from the rest of the world through the high-backed couch.

With tea in his system, Kurama leaned more comfortably into his seat, chewing the last of his bagel. His eyes landed on the window just as a truck passed by outside, so that the interior of the café flashed before him.

Even though it was only momentary, he managed to catch the reflection of a very familiar face, and his head whipped to the spot three tables in front of the one across from his down the aisle.

Her back was turned to Kurama and he could only see her side profile, but he was positive it was Aoshi. One of her hands flew to the air as she gestured frantically to someone he couldn't see from his line of sight, bun bobbing up and down as she moved her head.

He should've caught her scent when they had entered, but the brewery obscured the definite smell of mint and tobacco smoke on her. He strained to hear the conversation, chewing more slowly than he'd have wanted.

"Look, I really need to know where I could find them—" Aoshi was saying, pleading to the person she was talking to.

"Okay, okay. Calm your tits, kid. I'm giving you an address."

Kurama's face twitched at the language. The scratching of pen on paper, which was then slid down the table, and Aoshi said, incredulous, "It's a pub."

The rasping voice of the other woman sounded bored. "Yeah, safest place in Tokyo for demons and humans to mingle. It's just a station away. If you go now, you'll get there dinnertime."

What was the professor getting herself into and why was she going to _that_ place? He should've known letting her go that time would put her in more trouble.

"It's not where I can find _them_ , is it?" Aoshi said, an edge to her voice.

"No."

"Then why give me this address?" she asked, voice higher with exasperation.

The informant's hand made it to Kurama's line of vision, thumb rubbing against her other fingers. "One thousand more and I'll tell ya."

Aoshi was silent for a moment. Then she said, dejected and thwarted, "Never mind. I'll just find out myself."

The professor stood up and put on her leather jacket, bowing to the grizzly-haired woman who only waved her hand at Aoshi as she too got up.

Kurama's legs worked fast, and he was under the table in no time at all, waiting for the overhead bell to tinkle at the opening of the door before the sound of a busy street dissolved their footsteps in the background, everything cut off by the door's falling closed.

He waited a beat before he wormed his way back to a more dignified position in his seat, extracting from his wallet the amount he needed to pay for his tab and leaving it on the counter as he jogged to the door to follow the professor's trail.

Leaving the remainder of his meal untouched, Kurama burst outside and craned his neck to look over the crowd of pedestrians. He spotted the dark bun and grey hair about ten yards away before Aoshi and the unnamed woman parted at the crossing, the former walking down the street to the train station.

Tucking his chin into the collar of his overcoat, he tailed the unsuspecting professor, keeping her at a safe viewing distance.

He was certain she was bound for the pub in the shady part of Ginza, way down south of the district, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was the one run by a psychic and a demon. It was indeed a safe establishment, one that was off-limits to people who had so much as a violent thought; a territory warding off the wrongdoers.

But how she'd managed to find someone who knew about it… Kurama thought the woman must be one of those who'd taken up after Yusuke's idea of a business in the guise of the ramen stand he'd abandoned a long time ago. Granting favors for money.

It took another five minutes before they were able to reach the station, and Kurama waited behind a pillar for her to get past the automated gates before slipping in and taking the rear of the second file from where she stood in.

As he watched her fiddling with her jacket and a small satchel, Kurama wondered if they were mistaken for putting faith in the assumption that they'd managed to scare her off so she'd stay out of their business. He was still unsure whether this undertaking had anything to do with the incidents and her involvement in them, but somehow Kurama knew it at least entailed their group, that they were whom she meant to find.

He was able to occupy a spot by the doors as she had, her back conveniently turned to him once more as she leant on the doorframe despite the warning stickers bearing the message, "Please do not lean on the doors."

She must be in too deep a thought to be clear in disregarding train etiquette.

When she pushed herself from her position and got off, Kurama deftly followed, letting her lead the way with the paper in her hand. The breeze blew past them as they reached the top of the subway stairs, and her other hand gripped the small piece of paper in an effort to keep it from flying away.

The bandaged hand caught his eye before it disappeared into her jacket's pocket once more. Upon the sight of her injury, her intentions a week prior became more authentic to Kurama, though it definitely raised the question of why she was getting into a seemingly more serious a trouble this time.

She continued to walk three streets down, past the colorful displays of the shops and restaurants, unaware of the soul tailing her. Checking his watch, Kurama realized it was already fifteen minutes past six but the sun had yet to begin setting.

Aoshi crossed the street when the light changed to red, turning the corner after pausing to read the street sign. She walked to the end of the block and disappeared into an alleyway.

Kurama pressed his back to the wall of another restaurant, craning his neck to see how far she'd gone into the dark passage. When she took another left upon checking the piece of paper, he abandoned his hiding place and silently treaded on the same path, his feet not making a single sound against the damp, cold stone. Or if they were, the loud, echoing scuttle of the professor was overpowering enough.

He cringed inwardly. She hadn't thought this out, had she?

o-o

That little witch. Just because she made it her business to know the comings and goings with regards to the supernatural, that didn't mean Chiaki had to pay for every single word out of her putrid mouth. She'd encountered her in one of the more secluded areas in the Shibuya district, one night many months ago when she was walking alone after a late drinking party with the faculty where she didn't drink any.

" _Young lady," she said, voice all spooky and airy. When Chiaki turned to her ramshackle of a mystic shop smack in a dead end between two garment shops, she continued, hand on what people called a crystal ball, "You have a gift."_

 _It'd taken all of her last reserve of energy to keep herself from laughing. "A gift?"_

" _Yes. You can see things only few people can."_

 _Chiaki raised an eyebrow. "I know that. Excuse me."_

" _Wait!" The greying woman almost scared her shitless with the dark urgency in her raspy voice. "You know too little. I can help you see more."_

" _Sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry," Chiaki said, bowing. The crystal ball reader's face fell and Chiaki amended, "I'll drop by if I need anything."_

" _I'll see you then."_

Who'd have thought the time would come for when she'd really need the enchantress's help… at a high price? Which included free tea and a bagel, much to Chiaki's chagrin. The little leech. She wasn't even an enchantress for real. When Chiaki arrived at her booth, she wasn't garbed in her dark hooded robes and cloak but was smoking her pipe and lazily wasting her afternoon away. Turned out she was "a slave only for the night" (her words, not Chiaki's; they were too corny to be hers).

But Chiaki had questions for the four of the people involved in all of the uproar that had recently begun to creep into her otherwise peaceful, routine life; she had no choice.

Only this morning she'd gone to Yamamoto's hometown in Yokohama to pay respect and mourn for his death. She'd have gone yesterday, but she found out she was weakened from the news, the reason for which she only realized after she'd gone to see him.

His siblings, his only living relatives, had been devastated with the loss, and even they couldn't comprehend why the scientist would go as far as killing himself when he was at the peak of his career.

Chiaki had wanted to ask about the book, but thought better than to cause a diversion. Looking at their faces, she was pretty certain they didn't have a single clue about their brother's dealings as he'd usually kept to himself. She felt sorry for his family, unaware to what had actually happened.

It wasn't even until she was out of the house that she realized how much she would miss her boss. He wasn't the friendliest and most accommodating senior, but she'd learned a lot from him and his backwards ways of dealing with new breeds of researchers.

She'd actually wept upon seeing the coffin. Which was all right as she'd known him for nine years, but rightfully gross, in a manner only she could make sense of. She was never really fond of him after all.

Thinking about it that way, the fact that he'd sent the book to her, that he'd chosen Chiaki of all people, meant that she must have made a difference.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that it could have been not for the reason she'd drawn up to placate herself. For all she knew, he might have never sent the book. He couldn't run _that_ fast to just disappear right after ringing the doorbell. He was a greying man and his knobbly knees wouldn't take him places in a span of two minutes.

But if that was the case, then who did it? If it wasn't him, then who was the anonymous author, "Y. K."?

And so she resolved to find the four people she'd seen only two weeks ago, with a little— _very little, actually—_ help from the Wicked Witch of a Random Impasse in Shibuya.

As she turned the last dingy corner according to the Witch's illegible handwriting, Chiaki saw the humble two-story building at the end of the block, its plate glass windows revealing a full-packed pub, diffuse lighting from the inside contrasting with the incandescent and multi-colored sign hanging from the roof that read in bold letters, "Tenshi to Oni".

Chiaki trudged up the last few feet and slid the door open, pausing slightly at the threshold to take in the room at large before she became too noticeable for the odd mix of patrons. Some of them were dancing and singing to the karaoke machine pushed up against the far corner while some were huddled around tables, chatting and laughing about things she couldn't hear over the noise. A few people were seated in the counter, drinking and smoking.

Her heart caught in her throat as she took in the different forms of demons talking animatedly and having the time of their lives with the humans—horned, scaled, feathered, fanged, blue, grey, black. One moment she felt like she stepped into a whole other realm, one so detached from reality she must only be dreaming. The fact that such a place existed in the heart of a city—even if it was in its less popular area—made her feel far less than the scientist she thought she was.

She must have been really closed to the rest of the world if she'd never seen anything like this before.

Chiaki checked her watch. It was too early for people to be this intoxicated. On a Monday, no less. It was a pub as rowdy as any, and she had to remind herself that it was the haven to both demons and humans who weren't inclined to doing anything underhanded lest they wanted to get chucked out.

Feeling safer than she had only a moment prior, Chiaki proceeded to the wooden counter and sat on the stool closest to the door should she need to hightail it down from there. Not that she hoped to see herself doing it.

"What can I get you, newbie?"

Chiaki slightly jumped at the booming voice before she realized it was just one of the bartenders, a dark-haired young man who looked no older than she was. He was smiling, wiggling his eyebrows at her with a knowing look.

"Do I look that out of place?" Chiaki said, discomfort coming back full-force.

"Yeah," the bartender said, chuckling. "You spent a good two minutes gaping by the door."

"Oh," Chiaki said stupidly. Then, just to check, she asked, "Are you human?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Yeah, I am."

"Oi, Fujiwara, whatcha doin' chattin' with the lass? Serve her a drink," said an insanely tall demon behind the counter, clapping on the shoulder the person named Fujiwara who promptly slipped away.

Chiaki gulped as he leaned down to look at her, his green skin and three eyes the perfect, albeit otherworldly, picture of a bad case of hangover.

Ha. He must have been drinking all his life.

"Name's Kurosaki. Fujiwara and I run the place. What's yours?"

"A-Aoshi," Chiaki said, sputtering.

He smiled. "Dontcha worry, kiddo, I ain't gonna eat ya. Else I'll get kicked out." For good measure, he patted her on the head, too gently than she expected when she'd braced her shoulders for the impact that never was.

Kurosaki laughed. She must be the picture of an idiotic human who didn't think this through.

"You're not here to drink, are ya?" said Kurosaki, baring his yellow teeth as he grinned at her.

"I… I don't drink actually."

The demon turned to Fujiwara. "Dude, the lass ain't gonna drink. Give her soda."

Fujiwara only smiled and gave Kurosaki a thumb up.

"So, what did you come here for, Aoshi?"

Chiaki gulped and turned to look if anyone else had noticed her presence. No one was turned to them, and she all but shuddered in relief. After she cleared her throat, she raised her eyes to meet the smiling face of Kurosaki.

"I was directed to go here so I could find four people."

"Four people?" said Fujiwara who placed a tall glass of iced fruit soda in front of her. Chiaki stared at the bubbles of carbon dioxide rising up to dissolve in the air above the liquid surface, trying to convince herself that the drink wasn't poisoned.

"It's on the house, kid," said Kurosaki. "For newbies."

Chiaki's head whipped up to look at the two of them once more. She wasn't thinking _that_ as she had money on her, but when she saw their smiles, she realized drugging a woman was not one of the things they'd think of doing. Guess Kurosaki'd caught up on that and decided it was an unspoken rule, hence a statement different from what she was expecting.

"Uhm, thanks," said Chiaki, sipping her drink to show she trusted them. "Yum."

"'Course it is. The best things in life are free," said Fujiwara, chuckling. "So, as you were saying, who are these people you're looking for?"

Chiaki fiddled with the straw and swallowed more of the drink. She'd have to tell them if she wanted answers. "I don't know all of them but I'm pretty sure two were named, or aliased, for that matter, as Kurama and Hiei. They're both demons… or so I was told."

"The Reikai Tantei, then?" said Kurosaki, a single dark, bushy line running across his forehead shooting up as he did so. Chiaki surmised it was his eyebrow.

What a misfit. Three eyes and one eyebrow. The world didn't run out of weird.

"The Reikai Tantei?" she echoed. "Is that what they're called? As in, detectives to the Spirit World? I thought Kurama and Hiei worked for the NPA."

She was surprised she let it out in one go, surprised she was able to project much incredulity to her voice. So they'd been lying to her. No wonder they had the audacity to alter her memories.

"I'm pretty sure the two were only bluffing. They're pretty popular around here," Fujiwara replied, nodding his head. "The other two are humans, Urameshi and Kuwabara. Although I heard Urameshi wasn't…"

"He's part demon. Complicated stuff, if you ask me," said Kurosaki. "But what about 'em?"

Chiaki swallowed. If the two people in front of her weren't evidence enough, then the alliance between the Reikai Tantei should be a glaring proof that the world wasn't as it seemed.

She didn't know whether the group answered to someone else's cry for help in private or not, so she settled for a safe response, "I have questions that I think only they could answer."

"And you'd rather talk to them about it and not to odd business partners," said Kurosaki, free from any hint of malice. "You're in luck, one of them is here."

Fujiwara saluted someone who took the seat to the left of Chiaki's. "Yo, Kurama, what can I get you for today?"

The skin on Chiaki's exposed nape crawled and she jumped to a position she'd have called defensive, satchel covering her face and more importantly, her nose.

"I've had my fill, Fujiwara. Thank you," he said, before looking at Chiaki. "Professor Aoshi, it's nice to see you. How have you been?"

Chiaki's eyes widened as her heart began thumping against her chest. The demon Kurama was mere inches from her just a moment prior; she was _this_ close to danger just a moment ago.

But in his suit, Kurama screamed anything but demon. He looked too human.

"What are you doing here?" she all but squealed, panicked. She hadn't braced herself; she was only going to think of what to say when she had to finally face them.

"I'm here to speak with Fujiwara and Kurosaki," said Kurama, making a show of smiling at the two people still watching them. "It's your being here that's a mystery."

Chiaki couldn't have phrased that any better, but she wasn't convinced he was actually here on business. "I… I have to talk to the four of you."

 _Quit stuttering. What are you, an eight-year-old?_

Kurama's hand connected with his cheek. "Whatever for?"

"It's… something private."

"Oh," said Kurama. "If you'd come with me, then we could discuss it with my companions."

Chiaki's eyes narrowed. "What happened to speaking with Fujiwara and Kurosaki?"

Kurama's face lit up. "I think by now it's evident that I didn't come here for that."

She dropped the satchel and rolled her eyes to the back of her head. "What do you mean?"

"I've been tailing you from Shibuya."

"What?" Chiaki's heart had started on overdrive again, trying to make sense of it all. "You were following me? How—?"

"I was in the local café when I overheard you talking to this… strange woman."

She wasn't convinced that he just happened to "overhear." What a smooth liar. "More like eavesdropped, I'd bet."

"Right you are, Professor. You're always perceptive."

The calm demeanor of the redhead made her blood boil and her fist clenched more tightly on her satchel. "And that prompted you to follow me all the way here? How then do you expect me to trust you?"

Kurama smiled. "You would because you need me."

This little effeminate in suit and tie… how dare he! _Oh, how I'd love to strangle you right now and—!_

Without warning, Chiaki felt a jolt of electricity envelope her torso and she was lifted off the air, a squawk escaping her throat. The next things happened so fast she wasn't sure they weren't part of a very, very lucid and elaborate dream.

The sound of the door banging open. Her feet lifting parallel to her head, her body four feet off the ground.

"Professor!" Kurama exclaimed, arm shooting out to her and his hand wrapping around her wrist.

At the moment of contact, another jolt of electricity shook her and she cried. "It hurts! What the hell is happening?"

She was being pulled away by something invisible, and Kurama's hand on her wrist with the electricity and his resisting the force proved too painful. For all she knew, she could snap in half, like a twig from the force of the wind before it broke off the branch.

Kurama was yelling over her cries. "Professor, listen, stop thinking!"

"Thinking what?"

He was on his feet now, two hands already holding her. "Just stop!"

This guy was insane. "How do you even do that?"

Kurama's mouth moved then dropped open. Exasperated, he called over his shoulder, "Fujiwara, please put it down for now."

"You should've said it sooner," said the bartender, smiling as though the entire situation was amusing.

Just as suddenly as she was lifted off the air, the force ceased to pull, the door slid closed, gravity took over, and she was going to collide with the stool—

Something else hard—but not as hard as wood—made contact with her body, and warmth enveloped her as the scent of roses, mixed with soap and fresh clothes filled her nostrils. Her breath whooshed out of her, and her stomach lurched in a sickly somersault.

"Professor?"

The voice was coming mere inches from her ear, and she snapped her eyes open to a splash of flaming red hair. Breath shallow, she pushed herself away from the man, stumbling a bit from the lack of support as she put two feet between them. The world spun for a moment, and she found her bearings as she placed a hand on her head.

"Professor?" Kurama repeated.

"Hold on," Chiaki said, too weak to put spite in it.

She became more aware of the tingling on her wrist as the world shifted back to focus, and she pushed the cuff of her jacket to survey the damage. It was pink from the pressure Kurama had put on it as he prevented her from catapulting out into the open, thus saving her from a major embarrassment.

Not that the fact that she was hovering feet above the ground only two minutes ago made her feel any better, as it had been a spectacle for the whole pub.

She cursed under her breath and stumbled to the stool, dropping her head on the counter as her face went redder than Kurama's hair.

The whole pub was quiet and she didn't dare move until the twitter began again.

"Professor? Are you all right?"

"I just managed to injure my good hand. I'm not okay."

"Are you still thinking of killing me?"

"I wasn't—" The gears in her head started turning and she sat up straight, looking back and forth between the redhead and the proprietors. "That was it?"

"Yeah," said Fujiwara, as he and Kurosaki laughed. "Welcome to the safest place in Tokyo for you and your demon friends."

"No violent thoughts," Chiaki told herself, and she pressed her still reddened face on the counter once more. That little Witch! "Of freaking course."

"Are you still thinking it?" asked Kurama, laughing.

"No," said Chiaki, twisting to glare up at him. "I only wanted to get even—in my thoughts, at least—and this is what happens."

"Sorry, kid," said Kurosaki.

He didn't sound sorry at all, and Chiaki's nostrils flared, upset of not knowing better than assuming anything and everything violent was a major no-no. She could be really thick when it mattered most not to.

"Is this how much the soda costs?"

The three men howled with laughter again, and Chiaki silently wished she would just dissolve then and there.

"Now that you've mentioned it, we might consider," said Kurosaki, still laughing.

"We're putting the wards up again, so refrain from thinking dark stuff," said Fujiwara, wiggling his eyebrows.

Chiaki, lips still pursed in a picture of upset, turned to wait for him to do it, but after a moment of stupidly watching the bartender prepare a drink for the new customer who'd entered, she said, "Is it up?"

"Yeah."

"How did you do that?" He didn't even move! No incantations, no finger movements, no anything. He just went to the shelves holding the drinks.

"It's a secret." He winked at her, tray in hand, and pushed with his backside the swinging doors to get out of the bar and serve the mix. Kurosaki disappeared with him after a moment of looking at his wary customers, grumbling something about cleaning the windows under his breath.

"How's your right wrist?" asked Kurama after Chiaki turned to finish her soda and they had the counter to themselves.

She cast him a sidelong glance. "It hurts."

"I think that's because I touched you when you were thinking of hurting me," said Kurama, rubbing at his temple.

Like she didn't know that.

"Sorry about that."

Chiaki looked away as he bowed his head. She couldn't believe this. One moment, he was the greatest douche in all of Japan, holding himself with such high regard just because she sought their group's help, and the next he was sorry. But Chiaki wasn't unreasonable. She was twenty-seven years old, after all.

"I'm partly to blame, so don't be."

"Still, you acquired your injuries because of us," he said. It was a roundabout way of taking the blame, but it worked for the mean time.

"I broke my wrist two weeks ago because I was stupid enough to help."

"And you hurt yourself today because you didn't trust me enough."

"It's difficult to do that. You almost erased my memory of the incident, in case you forgot." Chiaki's lips twitched as she chuckled. "Ha, isn't that funny."

He clearly took the lame joke as it was and Kurama sighed, reaching for his nape concealed by his long locks. Chiaki turned to see him withdrawing his hand, which he held out in front of her, palm up. For a moment she thought it was the powder again, but it was only a seed as yellow as sweet corn, but none like a monocot's, innocently sitting against his skin.

"Uh… why are you showing me a seed?"

"This seed came from a samara fruit of the demonic Yggdrasil Ash," said Kurama, looking at the seed. "Concoctions made from it should heal sprains and fractures."

"Yggdrasil Ash? As in that from the Norse mythology?"

Kurama nodded.

She couldn't believe it. "What are you, a Japanese demon, doing with the seed of a sacred Scandinavian tree? At least according to legends, that is."

"It's a long story but let's just say I have my ways."

Chiaki paused, repeating what he just said. This man was dangerous. _And as far as demonic things go…_ "Isn't it dangerous to administer something demonic to a human?"

He smiled. "No, unless it's poisonous."

"How should I know it isn't?" Chiaki asked, cocking an eyebrow at the overspill that was Kurama's confidence.

"I can drink some."

"You don't have any injuries."

"Then I'll injure myself."

Chiaki gaped openly at him. He was deathly serious, with a smile on his face to make it seem less sick. "That's crazy."

Kurama's smile widened. "If that's what it takes for you to trust me enough, then so be it."

She searched his eyes for the lie, but when he only stared steadily at her, she sighed. "You're doing this to make up for the powder fiasco and for today?"

"I am," said Kurama as he pulled his hand away and reached for his hair once more. "I'll brew the concoction at Yusuke's."

The question was automatic. "Who's that?"

"Urameshi Yusuke," said Kurama.

When he placed empty hands on his knees with no seed to be seen, Chiaki asked, "What are you doing hiding seeds in your hair?"

"That's a story for another day."

"Touché," said Chiaki. But she briefly wondered at his answer: another day. Did that mean she was going to see him again even after this?

Kurama smiled at her before saying, "So, would you come with me? I'm heading out to meet the others."

"How should I know you're not going to kill me?" That same questions were coming from her was getting old.

"That's a violent thought," he pointed out, still the picture of patience.

Chiaki rolled her eyes.

"All right, if it would appease you, I'm going to give them a call," he said, brandishing a compact mirror.

"With a mirror," she said, incredulous. She could definitely laugh at his serious, no-nonsense face. "Aren't you a girl."

Kurama tilted his head, and Chiaki wasn't sure if he was offended. If he was, he was doing a great job hiding it. He probably got it all the time, what with his appearance.

"It's a communicator," he said, opening it and letting her see.

When Chiaki laid her eyes on it, she realized he wasn't kidding at all. The spot where the powder should have been was loaded with multi-colored buttons with numbers and symbols too small from the distance she was keeping between the two of them. Kurama pushed a lone black button at the topmost corner of the makeshift keyboard, and the mirror that turned out to be a screen came to life, the emblem of a certain Koenma flashing before them.

"Who's Koenma?"

"The King of the Reikai."

"So you really are working for him."

"Is it obvious?"

Chiaki fixed him with a glare.

Kurama wasn't fazed a bit and pressed another set of buttons. The screen flashed again and was then divided into four frames, with small letters reading, "Urameshi Yusuke", "Kuwabara Kazuma", "Hiei", and "Botan".

"Hiei isn't an alias?"

"No," said Kurama, just as the frames changed from blank, black visuals to the faces Chiaki was fairly familiar with.

So they lied to her. How could she have put faith in their words?

"Hello, Kurama!" said girl named Botan, waving, before she noticed the redhead wasn't alone. "Oh, it's the professor. Why is she with you?"

Distracted from lamenting the fact that all these started out wrong, her hand connected with her mouth in shock at the sight of Botan.

"You were the ghost with the oar!" said Chiaki, recognizing the blue-haired kimono-clad girl.

"You can see me? Then you must be spiritually aware," said Botan, smiling broadly at her. "It's Botan, by the way; reaper of souls, messenger to the River Styx, and assistant to the Reikai Tantei."

 _Shit._ "I'm speaking to Death. Oh my god," said Chiaki, feeling queasy all of a sudden, hand still on her mouth. "I might die soon. You're here to take me!"

Then…

Her head whipped up to snarl at Kurama, "How dare you trick me into this!"

Just as Chiaki raised her hands to wrap around the redhead's neck, almost screwing with the fact that the wards were up again, laughter echoed from the communicator and Chiaki glared at Kurama who was joining in, a hand held up to placate her. Remembering where she was, Chiaki lowered her hands.

"Calm down," he said. "That wasn't my intention."

Botan's voice resounded from the communicator, waving her hands to dismiss her worrying. "I'm not here to take anyone away, Professor. I'm sorry if you thought I was."

Chiaki turned to Kurama. "I just have to let them know that you're with me."

"So what if they knew?" Chiaki said through gritted teeth, the relief and confusion coming to her at once and making her feel uncertain.

"I'll be held responsible for your safety till we meet them," Kurama said, all cool and patient. When she only blinked back at him, he turned to the others. "We'll meet you at the diner in an hour. She wants to talk to us."

"About what?" said Yusuke, eyebrows knitted.

Chiaki looked back and forth between the screen and Kurama. She dropped her voice, leaning in as she said, "Yamamoto Koji."

Judging from the look on their faces, she'd come to the right people.

* * *

A/N:

* In Japan, there are employees called "people pushers". Job description? Exactly as that. They push people to fit into train cars especially during rush hours.

* Yggdrasil ash - from Norse mythology; an evergreen ash tree that spanned heaven and hell. Why use it for recuperation of injured muscles and bones? Because it spans heaven, earth, and hell and should therefore be very powerful. Haha. Why does Kurama have its seed? Let's just say that somewhere in the Makai other mythological forms dwelt: plants and animals alike, whether they be the yeti or the banshee or the kitsune.

So... what is Kurama's profession? Haha. And Chiaki is having a field day, I know.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You're the best! And to everyone who added this chapter to their faves and alerts! :) I hope you've all enjoyed it and would drop a line or two to tell me about it.

See you next chapter!


	7. II - Maneuver

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author. Inspiration for the chapter is taken from Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes._

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part II

" _Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it."_

– Samuel Johnson

o-o

 _Maneuver_

Upon exiting the once again rowdy pub, Kurama and Aoshi started for the general direction of the train station. The professor was three steps behind him, her better hand clutching at the strap of her satchel, walking closer to the traffic. It was natural for her to choose a position where she could escape immediately; she was wary and fidgety, even as she took up the offer to come with him.

It occurred to Kurama that she was more than surprised to see him. She was definitely unprepared and would have gone to seek them for later even after she acquired the details of their whereabouts, as much as he could tell.

He was right. She didn't think this through.

But it should come from the fact that she held valuable information on the incident of a certain researcher's death. Botan had been adamant that Yamamoto wasn't scheduled to die yesterday, upset that something like this should happen, and following that they didn't know anything else beyond that, it had remained a mystery.

Aoshi was ready to ask why they'd looked like they did when she mentioned his name, but he was able to halt her automatic string of questions, saying they'd better discuss it in private. She was naturally curious, as he'd observed, and it didn't strike him as odd.

"Professor," he said, turning his head to look at her. She was awfully behind, inching farther away from him and closer to the traffic every passing minute.

She slightly jumped and stopped walking altogether. "Yes?"

He also stopped in his tracks. "I hope you know by now that you can trust me," he said.

Aoshi blinked up at him before she released a breath noisily. "I'm trying."

Kurama pressed his lips together. "You're with me. If anything happens to you, I'd be the one to take the blame. Walking with me should attract the attention of several dangerous demons, but if you'd do so without putting this much distance between us," he said, gesturing to indicate the two yards, "and without being equally dangerously close to the traffic, then maybe I wouldn't."

Aoshi blinked again and shrugged, covering the rest of the space in only three seconds. She settled a foot next to him, putting him closer to the traffic. Then looking up, she cocked an eyebrow.

"Happy now?"

Kurama smiled despite himself. She was reasonable. "Yes. Thank you very much."

She rolled her eyes and started ambling again. "Don't sweat it."

He took it as a sign that he'd been successful. After watching her walk away with his back to him, completely unguarded and vulnerable, he followed her.

"It's awfully cold tonight. I wouldn't."

"You're freaking hilarious."

"I'm trying. It's difficult with present company."

She cast him a seething glare. "Look who's talking. This setup is only out of necessity. I need you and you need me."

"How do you know we do?" asked Kurama, raising his eyebrows at her. She was being obnoxious, but this was better than the silent tread he'd endured the first few blocks from the pub.

She shrugged again. "Simple. You looked like I hit the jackpot when I mentioned my boss's name. That should mean I have valuable information to share."

The professor didn't miss a thing. "But aren't you being presumptive? We can only tell if it is valuable once you present it to us."

"I don't do presumptions. They're messy and erroneous most of the time. I rely on observations."

Right, since she was a scientist. "You make it sound like a study."

"All things in life are scientific."

"Even the existence of demons?" Kurama challenged.

Her lips seemed to curl to a smile, but when she looked up at him, a smirk was in place, her eyes anything but amused. "Yes, even the existence of demons."

The words escaped her stronger than was necessary, and Kurama felt his stomach heave as the seriousness and complete lack of malice in her voice registered. Aoshi did know something, and he was now interested to hear about it more than ever.

They lapsed into silence once more. Kurama didn't have to say anything else, as the professor adopted a morose stance after that proclamation, closing herself from him, lost in her own thoughts. She was upset, and Kurama wasn't sure he could offer her anything to help her out of it.

She only spoke again when they were sitting next to each other on the train, after she'd smiled at a small child cradled in his mother's arms. The boy grinned widely at her, his tapering eyes reduced to mere slits as he showed his gap teeth.

"I've been wondering," she said, taking him by surprise as she turned to him, her voice low in a whisper. "Why did you decide not to use the pollen on me?"

The back of Kurama's neck felt suddenly hotter at the memory. She'd outsmarted them. He remembered the look of discomfort Hiei held after he'd mentally projected the image for Kurama to see what the professor did, prompting laughter to escape from him. Hiei was brash and aggressive, but he wasn't perverted. It was Kurama who enjoyed putting people on the spot, but the only method of retrieving the journal entry would put them in trouble. Yusuke would get many a spanking from Keiko if he did. Kuwabara was out of the question.

Now that the police had secured themselves in the positions to watch over them, they couldn't afford to be reckless.

"We figured it would be pointless," Kurama said, settling for a safe answer. It was one of the reasons, after all.

"Why?"

Kurama cast her a sidelong glance. "You didn't seem the type of person to run into trouble if you can avoid it."

"Oh." She looked at her hands, clasped on the satchel on her lap. She didn't sound convinced, but said nothing else.

Kurama briefly wondered if he'd said it with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

When they got off the train and were out in the darkened street towards the diner, she began talking again. Kurama concluded she was just as naturally glib as she was inquisitive.

"Are you really a demon?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You don't look like one. Hiei, too."

"How can you say that? Have you encountered other demons before us?"

"I…" she automatically said, but faltered. "It's just that you look human to me."

She wasn't mistaken, so Kurama decided to tell her so. "You're correct to presume I'm human since I'm one."

"But you said—"

"That I'm a demon? That, too, is correct."

He kept up with the appearances. If he were to earn her full trust, he'd have to find ways to appease her without giving away too much. The professor was easy to please, as she hungered for knowledge. He could always lie to her if the need arose or use the pollen if ever she proved to be a threat.

But as far as he could tell from the look on her face, confused but engaged, she was innocent.

"How can that be?"

"That's another story for another day."

Aoshi's jaw dropped and closed immediately, disbelieving. "You're nasty."

"It takes one to know one," Kurama said simply, smiling at her.

Her eye twitched and narrowed before she started walking again, back turned to him as though to show she didn't need his telling her. That she could find out on her own. Which, Kurama'd surmised, was very possible as she was capable of getting her hands on information she needed and she didn't. The stunt she pulled at the café and pub were evidences enough.

Aoshi Chiaki was both threatening and lucky that way.

o-o

Surprisingly, Kurama the demon didn't attempt to do anything untoward throughout their journey to the diner that Chiaki had come to liken as the secret headquarters to the Reikai Tantei. He'd been companionable and accommodating to her queries, and he tried to answer them when he could.

But of course she wasn't able to extract information from him as she wanted to. He danced around the subject of his identity, and even if it made her feel less secure, she understood where he was coming from. People didn't go prattling away what could potentially be their darkest secrets to strangers. Maybe she'd find out later on.

Maybe not.

Tonight she just really needed them to shed light on the matter of Yamamoto's death, his text, and the whole laboratory fiasco. Three attacks and nobody in the whole freaking universe could put two and two together and broadcast it on national TV. The media could be really useless; sensationalizing trivial matters and neglecting the ones that are of consequence.

Or perhaps…

"There'd been three attacks to research facilities, all covered up as fire incidents. Don't you find it suspicious?" she asked the redhead who looked at her through the corner of his eyes. "I don't understand why the media didn't pick up on it and start the conspiracy shit they always broadcast. You know, those heavily opinionated mock commentaries? Do you have anything to do with that? Did you… alter their memories or something?"

He shrugged, his free hand slipping inside his coat's pocket. "We've done our part to keep anyone from knowing about the true nature of the attacks."

She couldn't have just that. "How?"

"We kept the media out, mostly. It took aggressive measures from the police force, but it's their business to keep humans from knowing."

 _That_ was valuable information. Chiaki's heart fluttered in her chest, feeling relieved and somehow guilty now that she knew it wasn't the media's fault the rest of the human populace were unaware.

"You mean to say you're working with the human police force?" It was a radical alliance, and although Chiaki felt it was underhanded, she couldn't argue the fact that it had kept most of the world safe. And oblivious.

"Yes," said Kurama as they turned a last corner. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to have those badges and police IDs, would we?"

Chiaki hummed under her breath for lack of anything else to say. It would take some time for her to digest this, but for now, she concluded that it was a lesser evil.

Ahead of them, Chiaki could see the dimly-lit diner, one that was traditional in _almost_ every sense. An apartment took up the second story, and on the overhang of the tiled roof, bold letters only visible from the streetlamp, was the sign reading, "Yukimura".

"Who's Yukimura?" she said as they brushed past the white noren curtains and stepped in front of the door. It bore the sign, "Closed", the window blinds shut, and Chiaki silently wondered if she'd been the reason the diner was not running so early into the night.

Kurama pushed the glass door open, the bell tinkling overhead, and was greeted with the customary welcome before he replied, "Yusuke's girlfriend."

Chiaki ambled after him, taking in the general appearance of the diner. About a dozen square tables occupied most of the space, only one of which was taken, while the open kitchen was adjacent to the counter. Behind the counter was a grinning Urameshi and a woman Chiaki presumed was Yukimura. She wore her brown hair in a ponytail, a small smile on her face as she looked at the new arrivals.

"Kurama, Professor Aoshi!" said Botan who occupied one of the tables nearest the counter, with the orange-haired boy named Kuwabara and Hiei. "Have a seat!"

"That's my line, Botan," Urameshi said, adjusting the headband atop his head which kept his bangs out of his face.

Chiaki and Kurama went to take their seats, bowing to everyone as they did, and Botan pulled her to sit across from her and next to Kurama. Her stomach lurched at the touch, shocked that the messenger could touch her with a warm hand. As if the change in her attire—sweater and jeans—wasn't odd enough.

Urameshi stood in front of her, grinning. "Yo, Professor, what would you like to eat?"

She'd have said she didn't feel like eating, but she remembered her last meal had been seven hours ago. "Ramen," she replied.

"Nice. I cook the best ramen around," he said with an air of satisfaction. "And you, Kurama?"

"The usual."

"Okay, then. Give me three minutes." He went away without another word, taking five bowls for his customers.

"Would you like a drink?" a soft, feminine voice echoed from her right. She looked up to see Yukimura who was still smiling.

"Um, what do you recommend?"

"Chamomile tea," said Yukimura.

"I'll take that," Chiaki said, smiling stiffly.

She nodded, and turned wordlessly to Kurama.

"Just water, Keiko. Thank you." Kurama then stilled, and added, reaching over for his hair and holding out his hand a moment later, "And could you please brew some tea with this seed? One cup should be ready in five minutes."

Yukimura eyed the yellow seed just as Chiaki did, and took it without second thought. "Who's it for?" she asked, her tone ridden of wonder, as though Kurama'd been asking her to boil random plant parts every day.

Chiaki wished this was the last time her handicaps would be _ever_ mentioned this day.

"Professor Aoshi injured her wrists."

She turned to her, eyes lit with unnecessary worrying. "I'm sorry to hear that. You'll be okay, don't worry. Kurama has the best remedies."

Chiaki offered her a smile. "Yeah, he tells me."

Yukimura smiled and excused herself, joining Urameshi in the open kitchen. Botan then twisted in her seat and grinned at her. Chiaki had to blink twice upon seeing that she had very oddly-colored eyes— _pink_ —as if her hair wasn't weird enough. Good thing she wasn't wearing her kimono. Otherwise, Chiaki'd have had a major headache from the bubble gum colors.

"Professor Aoshi, I believe you haven't met Kuwabara yet," she said, holding up her hand to gesture to the boy next to her.

"I haven't spoken to him, more like," said Chiaki, nodding to acknowledge him.

Kuwabara smiled at her, making his cheekbones look more pronounced as he did. "It's nice to meet you, Professor."

"Pleasure," said Chiaki, returning his warm smile.

"It's such a surprise. How did you find us?" Botan asked, genuinely curious.

Chiaki eyed Kurama. "Actually, it was he who found me."

"Kurama did?"

"Yeah, he's such a stalker. I didn't know he was a fan."

Kurama raised his eyebrows. "I'm not."

Chiaki ignored him. "I was talking to this enchantress and he listened in on the conversation then decided to follow me. Voila! I'm here."

The redhead only shook his head.

"Who's the enchantress you're referring to?" asked Kuwabara.

"I don't know, but she's from somewhere in Shibuya. She knows you. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

"That figures," said the orange-haired boy, scratching at his nose. "You sure know how to pick them. Hiei and Kurama'd told us a lot about you."

Her lips curled to a smirk. "I have my ways," she echoed, turning to look at the redhead next to her. "Though I wonder, what was it that they told you about?"

Two trays containing six, steaming bowls of ramen were placed in front of them, and Urameshi decanted the contents after he freed his hand.

He answered for Kuwabara. "That you were able to get the upper hand," he said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at her. "We know what you did."

Chiaki found the statement very suggestive and was about to say so when Yukimura chose the moment to appear and place their drinks on the table, taking the trays from her boyfriend who touched her elbow before she could turn away to whisper his apologies, his face solemn. She only smiled at him and shook her head, patting him on the shoulder to dismiss his worrying.

"Take your rest, babe. You've had a long day. I'll clean up when we finish."

Yukimura wrinkled her nose. "I'm going to wash the dishes."

"But—"

" _Then_ I'm going to bed and you're going to clean up the rest." She cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge Urameshi.

"Uh, okay. Whatever floats your boat."

"Good," she said, turning to them. "Excuse me." She bowed and sauntered away, the trays hugged to her chest.

Chiaki found herself smiling at the exchange, and the moment she realized this, her cheeks burned red. Boy, did she just swoon over a lovers' semi-spat?

In an attempt to regain mastery of herself, she turned to her ramen and inhaled the steam rising from the bowl. She then turned to the two cups in front of her, peering through the yellow liquids.

"The one with the paler color should be the ash tea," said Kurama.

Urameshi snorted next to him. "Just now, that sounded so gross."

Chiaki could only agree with him. "Do I take it before or after the meal?"

"Either way should be fine," said Kurama.

"Uh… later, then." She turned to her food and took hold of her chopsticks. Heaven knows if she'd feel like eating after she had drunk the weird concoction.

"Thank you for the food!" said Botan cheerily, and they all echoed the phrase before digging in.

Chiaki chewed the tasty noodles. Urameshi wasn't bluffing. He cooked the best ramen she'd ever tasted.

"Wow, this is really good," she said, smiling up to him.

"You think so? It's on the house then!"

Before Chiaki could protest, Kuwabara beat her to it. "What's this, Urameshi? You've never treated me to free ramen!"

The cook rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "The professor's a new friend. You're an old pal. Sorry."

"What kind of logic is that?"

 _Yeah, what kind?_ Chiaki wasn't even sure she ever consented to being labeled as a friend this early.

"I don't know. Do you?"

Kuwabara growled over his bowl. Mirth rose up in Chiaki's chest, and she all but coughed up the laugh she tried to help from escaping her. Then the unthinkable happened. Everyone turned to her as she was pounding on her chest, choking on a mouthful of ramen.

"Professor!" Botan exclaimed, rising from her seat. "What's happening?"

Chiaki was unable to breathe, automatically clutching at her throat. _Goddammit, I am choking._

Death by the most delicious ramen she'd ever had. What a way to go for a ride to River Styx. She knew meeting Death was ominous in every sense of the word.

Pure bliss.

Kurama was quick to move. He pulled her up by the shoulders, dragging her carefully to the side and stood behind her, pressing his chest to her back. His arms wrapped around her, thumb below her ribcage, and he began administering the Heimlich maneuver with quick, upward and inward thrusts to her abdomen.

For one precious moment, she couldn't care less whose arms had wrapped around her. When the traitorous noodle finally dislodged itself from her wind pipe, sailing through and landing on the tiled floors, air finally whooshed into her lungs. Her knees buckled up and she unconsciously sagged against the redhead, gasping for much missed air.

Then it hit her. It was the redhead holding her.

She stumbled away from him and grappled for the table, Botan reaching for her. Chiaki welcomed the support and leaned on her for a moment as she tried catching her breath.

What a day.

When she finally got back on her feet, Kurama was looking at her, his calm demeanor gone and replaced with one of exasperation and disbelief.

"You're a walking disaster, Professor," he said with a shake of his red head, hand swiping his bangs away from his porcelain face.

Oddly enough, Chiaki could only marvel at the fact that she'd escaped death again because he was there. _Again_.

She silently cursed. Too many favors would seriously cost her.

o-o

After everyone had settled down from the spectacle that was Aoshi and Kurama, they were able to finish the meal without further incident except for the occasional quips Yusuke and Kuwabara took at each other or Hiei. The professor was silent, not even bothering to thank him for saving her life from a wayward bit of noodle she swept up before going back to the rest of her ramen less enthusiastically. He wasn't sure if his sniping at her bad luck for this particular day had anything to do with her sudden change in temperament, but he'd expected her to retaliate.

She didn't, and Kurama was wondering why. He might have made the wrong impression of the professor's ability to take jabs. He might have overestimated her.

But it could have been an admission to her magnetism to bad luck.

A portion of the ice between them thawed when Aoshi was making appalled faces as she downed the Yggdrasil ash tea.

"What is this gunk?" she asked, sticking out her tongue, her gills turning green for an instant.

Kurama figured he didn't need to respond with one of his more clever snipes.

When the table was cleared and everyone was full, Yusuke finally spoke.

"So, shall we start?"

Aoshi didn't need anyone else's cue. She cleared her throat and straightened from turning her already healed wrists every which way as she examined them and stared at them in awe.

"You should know that I came here because of two things. One, I don't like being kept in the dark, and two, I received this mysterious parcel from a certain person with the initials, 'Y. K.' yesterday."

Unsurprisingly, everyone else turned to Kurama. He tilted his head and said, "She meant Yamamoto Koji."

Aoshi paused, eyebrows colliding. "Why are they staring at you?"

She didn't miss a thing. "It's a long story, but let's just say I was once known as Youko Kurama."

Her eyes widened. "Youko? As in a fox demon?"

He knew she'd pick up on it easily. "Yes, but we're digressing."

"Oh," was all she muttered before she reached to open her satchel, taking out a thin paperback, its celluloid-wrapped cover glinting off from the diner's incandescent lighting. She held it with one hand.

Dark, brushstroke letters adorned the cover, reading, _"Youkai: A Biological Perspective. Y. K."_

"I found this sitting in front of my doorstep after someone rang the doorbell. When I opened the door, nobody was there. I had half the mind to open the package after making sure it wasn't a bomb or a trigger and I was so paranoid I had to douse the package with alcohol lest I contracted anthrax or something else entirely."

She thought things through most of the time, then.

The professor opened the book to a random page, showing a sketch of… a mazoku? It was littered with handwritten text describing the figure, a diagram so detailed it made Kurama's skin crawl. How did a human manage to come up with such an accurate depiction of a demon?

More importantly, if the professor had been carrying something this demonic all the time she was with them, why didn't he sense anything off from it?

"Holy shit," said Yusuke.

"I know, right? Holy freaking shit," the professor agreed with a nervous gesture of her hand. "I could recognize Yamamoto's scribbles anywhere—he loved to write me notes on how stupid a junior I was whenever he got the chance—and the next thing I knew he was found dead in his apartment. Yesterday. Merely an hour after I got the book written by someone with his initials. Merely half an hour after another lab attack happened. Tell me, what's an adult to do? I had to find you."

Her voice rose with every single statement that came out of her mouth and she slammed the book on the table. She visibly shook, clamping a hand over her mouth as she tried to control herself.

So this was what she meant when she said that all things in life were scientific.

They didn't attempt to say anything. She had to finish her story.

"I never liked to presume things without substantiation, but all the jackshit that's happened wouldn't make sense to me if I don't," she continued, gnawing at her lip. "What baffles me most is why I had to get involved. Why me, of all people, should receive this book. Why Yamamoto should die and why everyone should be in this mess. I had to know, and that's why I came to you even when I didn't know if I'd come out of it unharmed. Even when I was so afraid you'd try to erase my memory of everything again. Else it would launch me off my rocker for good. Because all of this is happening for a reason. I'm certain of it, at least ninety percent."

She wiped her face with her hand, breathing heavily.

"I'd have delivered this less dramatically, but I haven't had the chance to think this through," she said, red in the face. "It kills me more that Yamamoto's family didn't know anything about this shit and what he must have gone through to drive him to commit suicide."

Aoshi rubbed at her temple, turning to them silently, eyes set.

"I know it's a bit of a stretch but I was hoping you'd know what exactly happened. You should know," said the professor, frowning. "It's not as if you didn't make it obvious when you set foot in front of my door."

Kurama glanced toward his companions who didn't look at the professor challenging them to deny any of it. By confiding in them the things that she'd gone through, she'd secured her position in this elaborate scheme that they had yet to crack. While the book she received was still a mystery, he couldn't dismiss the fact that it was too convenient a coincidence given everything that had transpired in so short a time.

"Well?" she prompted, raising her eyebrows, finally taking control. "I've had my piece. Should I just forget about it?"

Yusuke was quick to assuage her spite. "Professor, I know you're upset about everything that's happened, but you should know you've stepped into dangerous territory. It wasn't meant for you to find out any of this."

Kuwabara was nodding his head. "We only actually let you off that one time because we thought you'd know better to stay out of trouble."

Aoshi inhaled sharply. "Look, I didn't sign up for this. In fact, after you scared me shitless with the powder fiasco, I was bent on staying out of any sort of trouble. But I received a book and the author wound up dead. What was I supposed to do?" she asked again.

Hiei growled, growing tired of the professor's persistence, as Yusuke released a breath. Kurama held up a hand before any of them could speak.

"The professor has a point, Yusuke," he said, crossing his arms along his chest. "We can only take this as a welcome development. Yamamoto, a scientist from the second facility that was attacked, died off-schedule, and that was suspicious enough without her receiving his journal."

Aoshi must have cracked a bone or two as she whipped her head to look at him. "What do you mean? Off-schedule?" the dark-haired woman next to him said with a gasp, her frown deepening.

Botan cleared her throat and she turned to her. "He wasn't scheduled to die yesterday, according to our records," she explained, voice low.

Aoshi's face fell, mouth dropping open in surprise. "What the hell?"

"We didn't know how he died, either," Botan finished, closing her eyes as she bowed her head, shoulders dropping.

"How's that possible?"

"That's the question now, isn't it?" said the ferry girl, offering a wan smile as the professor clutched at her collar, as though choking again. From lack of oxygen and from incredulity.

Even Kurama could feel their frustration. It was awful enough that the scientist died without preamble, even more so that they couldn't wrap their heads around the circumstances of his untimely death.

"But that makes it all the more obvious, right? That this should have to do something with the attacks and the book?"

"Of course," said Kurama. "Although, we must warn you, Professor. By gaining information we know and by being part of the investigation, you will have to abide by our terms."

Aoshi looked at him and was silent for a minute. Then, "Pray tell."

"Is this really necessary?" said Hiei, distrusting. "Are we going to risk everything we've been working for by letting her into this?"

The professor almost choked again as she grappled for the right words. "Excuse me? Remember how I just told you everything I know? Remember how I didn't tell on the police about your assault?"

Hiei smirked. "It didn't take much for you to do that. Your fear drove you not to."

She was out of her seat in a second, towering over them as she pounded her fists on the table, risking to injure herself again. "H-how dare you! Just who do you think you are?"

The fire demon laughed darkly, mirthlessly. Kurama didn't like the sound if it. Not one bit. "I spared you."

"Spared me from what, exactly?"

"If I hadn't taken a dip in that empty head of yours, I wouldn't have found out that you've preserved your memories."

Aoshi looked livid and she bared her teeth. For what reason, Kurama was unsure. "Y-you can read minds?"

"Right now, you're thinking of crushing me to bits. I'm certain you wouldn't be able to do that even if you tried."

The professor bristled in shock and turned to Kurama. "Tell me he's lying," she said, eyes severe.

Kurama shot a look towards the fire demon who was still smirking. This was part of his test… of course. "He isn't."

When it occurred to her that he wasn't going to say anything else, her hands reached up to hold her head, the picture of conflict.

"How would you trust us now, human?"

She cringed at Hiei's way of addressing her and glowered at him with equal venom for quite a length of time, unable to meet him head-on. But then her eyes lit up—in realization, in understanding—and she grinned manically, satisfactorily, at the fire demon.

When she opened her mouth, Kurama knew.

"You're right. How can I trust someone as corrupted as you are? I can't and I wouldn't. But I trust that you thought this schmuck of a human was actually two steps ahead of you. Would I have been spared by you, Lord Hiei, if I hadn't been? No. You let me go because you thought it would be pointless. Because in reality you were too scared to get the journal entry I purposefully hid inside my bra so you couldn't get rid of evidence I know I would trust, should my memory fail me when I woke up. Because just how freaking cool and clever was that?"

Kurama couldn't believe it. The professor had figured it out on her own. Hiei was shooting daggers her way, his smirk faltering as she laid everything down for them.

"Because in reality, you couldn't get your hands on me, a supposed airhead, and just get away with it. Let's face it. I spared myself. You just had to see it and you went running with your tail between your legs. And if you think I'd follow through with that act of cowardice, you're mistaken. I may have been unsure, but now I'm more confident you're not the person you'd like me to think you are. I'm more confident that you wouldn't pull anything dirty, not now, not ever. Because you can't and you will not."

The table was silent for a full minute, the professor and fire demon still staring each other down. The words that came from Aoshi's mouth were a backwards way of stating her confidence in their little party, but it was as good an admission as any. Kurama's lips twitched as he fought down a smile, a feeling of elation bubbling in his chest.

They could count on her, and she showed them that.

Kurama cleared his throat, letting the smile take over his face. "I think that settles it," he said, turning to both of them. "Shall we proceed?"

Hiei's smirk never left his lips as he nodded, leaning on his chair less stiffly.

Aoshi sank back to her seat, calm and collected.

It seemed like the two of them had silently decided it was a stalemate. Which was good enough for Kurama.

"Very well then," he said, holding up his hand to Botan. The Reaper took out a small envelope from the pocket of her coat hung at the back of her seat, and she slid this on the table.

Kurama took the manila envelope with Koenma's wax seal and opened it, taking the heap of papers out. He placed them on the table and smoothened out the creases where they had been folded, letting the professor see for herself.

"As associating with us will cast unnecessary danger on you, you will have to listen when we tell you what to do. You will be part of the Civilian Intelligence Program and that means while we keep you safe, you'll be giving more effort to say imperceptible to possible suspects," he continued, and she turned to him once more.

"What do I have to do?"

"You will always listen to us and abide by our wishes," he said, sliding the papers to her so she would know he wasn't bluffing, his finger pointing to the first item she was already reading. "You will accept measures taken by the team as done to preserve you as a valuable witness and asset to the investigation. You will not lie to us, disclosing only the truth and nothing but the truth. If you accept these conditions, as mandated by the Reikai and its King, then we will proceed with your oath."

She held up a finger. "One question. I don't have a say to anything you ask me to do?"

"No."

She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, fists clenched, drumming on the table. "All right, I accept," she said, looking at all of them.

Kurama could only raise an eyebrow at her defiant attitude. "Please raise your right hand, Professor," he said.

She gave him a funny look, amused by the sudden change in atmosphere as he spoke like they were in a courtroom. But it was protocol. She did as he wished.

"Do you, Aoshi Chiaki, twenty-seven years of age and a citizen of Japan, voluntarily take part in the Civilian Intelligence Program of the Reikai Criminal Investigation Bureau, henceforth accepting all of its terms of agreement?"

"Uh… yes, I do."

"Do you, as witnessed by all here present, swear that all the information you have disclosed are true and correct?"

"I do."

"Do you swear that through the course of the investigation you will only disclose information that is true and correct?"

"I do."

"Do you swear that you will not disclose any information—past, present, and future—pertaining to the case to anyone, whether they be your friends, colleagues, or family?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to put your allegiance to only the Reikai and not to any other body?"

She hesitated. Then, "I do."

Kurama reached for a pen in his briefcase and handed it to the professor. "Please sign the contract whenever you're ready."

Aoshi wasn't one to take the opportunity for granted. She took the three-page document and read it silently, ignoring all of them for a good five minutes. After her third reading, she affixed her sweeping signature on the last page. Kurama passed the paper around for everyone to sign, and Botan tucked the resealed envelop inside her coat.

"Now, what?" the professor asked, crossing her arms along her chest.

"You will listen to us. You've had your say. We'll now have ours."

"Shoot," she said, straightening her back once more.

o-o

She held up a hand as Kurama paused in his explanation, halting further spouting of alien language from the redhead's mouth. This prompted the demon to turn to her, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

"Wait a minute," she said, reaching for the satchel on her lap.

When she took out a notepad and pen, Hiei was quick to say, "Put that away."

"Excuse me?" Her mouth hung agape, incredulous. "I need to take down notes."

"That's unnecessary and risky."

Chiaki narrowed her eyes at the demon. He was right, but that didn't mean she couldn't turn the odds in her favor. "Fine. You can dispose of it however you want to after I sort out my thoughts. Shred it or burn it, whatever."

To her surprise, everyone was laughing as she finished her tirade. Before she could voice out her confusion, she realized it was some other private joke. "Did I just say something funny again?"

"Yeah, you did," said Urameshi, hand on his mouth. "Hiei will take care of the burning, dontcha worry."

Narrowing her eyes once more, she only shrugged. "I don't understand but… whatever."

She opened her notebook to a blank page and started scribbling down the details. "The first lab attack occurred in Keidai about three weeks ago, the second at Stella-Bio, and the third at Sodai."

She listed this down and drew a vertical line next to the entries. Across each of the facilities, she wrote, "half-demons", "half-demons with reiki", and "half-demons with youki." Drawing a huge bracket next to the symbols, she wrote, "triggers?", underlining it for emphasis.

Next, she constructed a time table of the events, ignoring her companions altogether as she wrote hurriedly.

 _June 2 – attack at Keio University_

 _June 16 – attack at Stella-Bio_

 _June 22 – receives book on demons, death of Yamamoto, attack at Waseda University_

Tapping her pen on her cheek, she stared at the scribbles again. The humanoids that attacked were all half-demons, as Kurama'd explained. They all looked the same—almost human save for heads that would pass as hydrocephalic. But that was where the similarities ended. As far as they were concerned, they didn't seem to manifest the full potential of half-demons, with their being deficient of these "sacred energies". Unless they had to be triggered, like he'd briefly explained as the case of Urameshi's atavism.

Chiaki had to remind herself once more that everything could be explained by science even as the primordial signs of a headache were coming.

"Okay, let me get this _really_ straight," she said, turning to Kurama. "You said Urameshi here is the spawn of a demon forefather from forty-four generations past."

"Hey, that's kinda harsh," said Urameshi, crossing his arms.

Chiaki rolled her eyes. "Let's deal with the scientific and technical use of the word, shall we?"

"Yes, Professor," said Kurama, face impassive.

"And that genetic atavism triggered his dormant youki and general demon-ness." She cringed at the awkward word she had to voice out.

"That's correct."

"But this atavism was turned on by choice of his forefather, because apparently, he had the control to."

Kurama only nodded.

"Codswallop," said Chiaki under her breath. How would someone be able to wrap their head around the idea of someone having control over someone else's genetic make-up? But it was the supernatural. She'd have to look at it from a different angle. "You do understand that atavism should develop before Urameshi could've been born?"

"Actually, he was reborn," said Kurama. Urameshi was nodding his head, a smug look on his face.

Chiaki's jaw fell open. "You're joking."

"I'm not, Professor. He died twice and rose twice."

"How in the world—?"

"To cut the long story short, I died off-schedule and was given the chance to come back to life 'cause my last deed had been 'altruistic' and totally unexpected. They took me in as a Spirit Detective and I got stronger. The second time I died, well, I was already ripe for the genes ol' Raizen passed down. I woke up, and yeah, the rest was history."

How this person could talk about his demise with an air of nonchalance was beyond her, but she didn't try saying anything more, as the headache had finally come. An overwhelming desire to do something weird coupled the headache, as an answer to all the weird in the world.

But she had to take control of it. She'd already agreed to this. She had to take the weird. Hook, line, and sinker.

Even if it made her feel like choking all over again.

She closed her eyes and released a rattling breath. "Okay, I get it. Somehow. It makes sense so, I can deal with that. Hmm, well then, since these humanoids are half-demons, they're supposed to have reiki and youki as well, right?"

"Yes."

"But they didn't."

"Yes."

"And the humanoids didn't have souls. None left their bodies and none could be sensed from the carcasses."

"Yes."

"That doesn't make sense at all." Why would something alive, breathing and kicking some ass, not have a soul? Were they plants or something else entirely?

Hiei grunted, rolling his eyes at her. Chiaki retaliated by wrinkling her nose.

"Anyway, since that's still a mystery, let's move on to another concern," she said, looking down on her notes once more, pen tapping against the material. "It's obvious that the targets had been research facilities. From what I've heard from the news, Keio and Waseda's cellular and molecular bio labs were the source of the fire that was supposed to have happened. Same goes for Stella-Bio. That's a common."

Next to "triggers?", she wrote, "cell-mol". Now, what else did they have in common?

"Uh, Professor?"

"Hmm?" she said absently, looking up at Kuwabara.

"What are you thinking?"

"Oh." She straightened. "I was wondering if there's any other similarity between the three facilities."

"Why would you want that?"

Chiaki scratched at her temple with the pen. "There has to be a pattern, a common ground. Sherlock Holmes once said that there is nothing so unnatural than the commonplace, that big-scale crimes usually are most discernible from patterns. There has to be something…" she trailed off, reading her notes again.

Botan had leaned in to see for herself, and Chiaki internally scoffed at her invading her personal space. They weren't even friends just yet and Chiaki would rather not be disturbed from her private musings till she'd drawn up something concrete and—

 _Eureka!_

"Oh my god, that's it!" she exclaimed, making everyone in the table jump. A crash of metalwork on wood resounded from the kitchen, and they all turned as Yukimura picked up a fallen pan. "Sorry, Yukimura!" Chiaki yelled to her.

The girl only smiled and waved her apologies. They turned to her again.

"What was it?" asked Kurama, eyes smiling.

"Keio, Stella-Bio, and Waseda are all private institutions!"

Chiaki didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but when they didn't burst into a chorus of approval, she felt her stomach become heavy.

"So what if they're private?" asked Urameshi.

Guess she'd been too excited. _Way to go, Chiaki._ "Uh… a common ground?"

"Ground…" murmured Kurama all of a sudden, thumb pressing against his chin. They all waited for him to say something else before he looked at Urameshi. "Yusuke, do you have a map of Tokyo?"

"Uh, I don't know…" Urameshi craned his neck and called out to his girlfriend, "Keiko, do we have a map of Tokyo?"

"I have one upstairs," she said, leaning on the counter so they could hear. "It's in the third drawer of my study table."

"Thanks, babe," Urameshi said, and he jogged away, vaulting the counter and disappearing behind the door next to the kitchen. It must be the stairwell, as Chiaki heard his footfalls ascending to a story above them.

Kurama then turned to her once more. "Professor, are you familiar with all the research facilities within Tokyo?"

Chiaki tilted her head. "Of course, I make it my business to know. What of them?"

"Do you know where they are located?"

"Sure…" said Chiaki uncertainly. "Why do you ask?"

Urameshi came dashing back, the rolled map in hand. "Here ya go, fox boy," he said, tossing it for Kurama to catch before he took his seat again.

Not answering her, Kurama unrolled the paper map and placed it on the center of the table. "Is it all right to mark the map, Yusuke?"

"Keiko wouldn't mind, I guess."

Kurama nodded. "Do you have a pencil, Professor?" he said, still not answering her previous question.

Chiaki dismissed her worry-warting and opened her satchel, extracting a pencil stashed in one of the pockets. When she handed it to him, he held up his hand to stop her.

"Could you please mark the locations of Keio, Stella-Bio, and Waseda on the map?" he said.

Briefly wondering what the redhead was thinking, she only muttered her ascent before she leaned in, dragging the rubber end of the pencil on the brown map as she sought Keio first. She paused at Minato-ku, drawing a circle at the approximate location of the university. Then, going west, she found Shinjuku, drawing another circle for Waseda. Lastly, she went up north, pausing at Arakawa-ku and encircling the location of Stella-Bio.

"There's Keio, Waseda, and Stella-Bio," she said, tapping at the points.

"Thank you," said Kurama, smiling at her. He then looked up at everybody else. "The professor is correct. There is a pattern."

"Say what?" asked Urameshi, practically sticking his nose in the small map. Chiaki could only agree with him.

Kurama was still smiling as he handed the pencil to Urameshi. "Why don't we play connect the dots? Connect Keio to Waseda, then Waseda to Keio."

Wearing his confusion on his face as he took the proffered pencil, Urameshi drew less-than-straight lines across the map. When he finished, Chiaki only saw a lopsided half of a square… no… a diamond, one with not a right angle, as much as she could tell. Her head automatically turned this way and that, trying to spot something special about it.

It was an unfinished half… Her eyes roved the entirety of the map, and they landed on the unmarked spot across the gaping intersection of the two diagonal lines.

Before she could word it in her head, Kurama was speaking again. "It looks like an incomplete diamond, doesn't it?"

Chiaki looked at him, silently imploring him to continue.

"Professor, do you know any other _private_ research facility on biological sciences across Waseda, about as far as Keio is from Stella-Bio?"

The gears in her head started turning again and looked up at him, fear bubbling up in her chest. "Is that what you're driving at?"

"It's a mere guess, but an educated one," Kurama replied as he handed her the pencil.

"There's G&P," she said, locating the laboratory easily at Sumida-ku. "I can go further east, but the figure wouldn't look like a diamond if I did."

"No, we can do with this," said the redhead. "Do the honor of tracing the rest of the puzzle."

Chiaki didn't have to be told twice. She swept with the lead the other half of the virtual diamond.

"Now what?" said Kuwabara, leaning in with the rest (except for Hiei).

Kurama took the pencil and connected the opposite corners of the diamond, letting the angle bisectors intersect at the center of the diamond. Chiaki blinked as she read the label of the map at the point of intersection.

"Todai?" she said, mouth hanging agape. "What—?" she said, covering her mouth.

If Todai was the center of the pattern they'd drawn up, and G&P was the last corner…

"What's happening?" asked Botan, looking back and forth at the two of them.

"Todai could be a target, next to G&P," said Kurama, not taking his eyes off Chiaki. "But there's a break in the pattern, Professor."

He broke eye contact with her and she looked back at her notes, adding G&P and Todai to her list. Keio, Waseda, Stella-Bio, G&P, Todai. _Pick the odd man out._ The letters seemed to bleed into the material of paper, washed out with the tide of her thoughts, less focused, astray.

Then it clicked.

"Todai isn't private."

Kurama's smile faltered as she considered him with a look of dread. "Right you are, Professor. You're always very perceptive."

A break in the pattern, the center of the pattern…

"Wait a sec," said Kuwabara. "You meant to say G&P is a possible target and Todai isn't?"

"It's not a certainty, but it's a possibility," said Kurama, cocking his head to the side as the back of his hand connected with his cheek. "And there's something else interesting about all this."

No…

"What are you really driving at, Kurama?" Chiaki said, picking up on the underlying intent in his statement.

When he looked at her, she felt like having a tantrum as he confirmed the idea that was taking shape in her hazy head. "One name, Professor. Yamamoto Koji."

While everyone else broke out with their confusion, Kurama and Chiaki were sizing each other up. There was another piece of the puzzle that was unspoken of, one idea which they knew was both far-fetched and too convenient.

Chiaki couldn't take it any longer. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Aren't you being too presumptive, Professor?"

"Aren't you?"

Kurama adopted a solemn look. "I have several questions for you to answer. Where did Yamamoto teach?"

"At Todai."

"Where do you teach?"

Chiaki gritted her teeth as she repressed the urge to flip something. This couldn't be happening. "At Todai."

"What research facility are you targeting for re-employment after Stella-Bio closed down?"

Her eyes widened. She hadn't thought it out yet, being too preoccupied with all the things that had been happening in her once sedentary life, but…

"I was hoping to get into the Institute of Molecular and Cellular Biosciences."

His lips turned into a whole new version of a smirk. It was smug, ecstatic, and triumphant. "Where's that?"

"At Todai."

Everything fell into place. Her stomach felt heavy, like lemon juice was poured into it, mixing with the mass of lead churning inside her. The laboratory attacks were meant to drive every single scientist in Tokyo to its heart… to Todai. Of course.

While this was an interesting development in the case, Chiaki couldn't help but wonder why the masterminds had made it too obvious for the investigators to see the pattern.

"But Kurama, why does everything seem so easy to tell?"

He smiled at her—genuine, appreciative. "You never miss a thing. But I remember Sherlock Holmes saying that it's a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. We need more evidence to back this assumption."

Her eyebrow twitched at his quoting Sherlock Holmes like she did. "Are you seeing everything, Kurama? Or are you reasoning from what you see?"

"I'd like to think that it's the latter."

Chiaki's stomach churned again. Not out of discomfort, but from the fact that they were on the same page. "You're no Watson, then."

For a last time, he smiled at her.

"Now that settles it," said Kurama, nodding his head at her before he turned to everyone. "We need to prepare for a possible attack at G&P anytime, but we can't make it obvious that we've figured the puzzle out or the enemies are going to get past us. As for Todai, Professor Aoshi and I are going to infiltrate."

Her head whipped up to look at Kurama. "Excuse me?"

His smile widened. "I remember someone saying a long time ago that if you want to hide a tree, you must place it in a forest."

When everybody else laughed but her, Chiaki's face fell.

She wasn't going to get them soon enough.

* * *

A/N:

* Noren curtains are practically room dividers. They're those that you see hanging in the front doors of a Japanese shop.

* Keio (a.k.a. Keidai), Waseda (a.k.a. Sodai), and all the wards mentioned here do exist. I don't own them. I don't own Japan. I don't own anything save for Chiaki and the other OCs and the ideas. Additionally, I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Can't. Ever.

* Stella-Bio and G&P are taken from a brand name and a Japanese drama. Free virtual cookies to the person who could guess which is which.

I enjoyed writing this chapter so much that it ended up being almost 9,000 words in length. This is an all-time high for me, and I'm so happy about it. I didn't want to cut it anywhere since it would then have felt lacking.

AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Life has been very hectic; I am already undertaking my undergraduate thesis (in plant physiology and developmental biology) and I am preoccupied with organizational duties (being a secretary isn't all that easy). Because of these, updates will be every two weeks (or three weeks). I have to do this; otherwise, I'll end up uploading 3,000-word chapters that are very awkwardly cut in the middle. Writing takes up so much time, and revising, too. I have exams coming, deadlines of paperwork, and reportings. It's not very manageable. But don't worry! I am so happy about this story and I've got everything planned out already. I WILL NOT ABANDON IT. Sorry about this change of plans, but it's a must.

Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and those who added this story to their faves and alerts! You make my heart swell so much and inspire me to write more of it.

Thoughts on the chapter? Love it? Hate it? Tell me! Please leave a review!

See you next chapter! :)


	8. III - Beginnings

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part III

 _"With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere."_

– Peter Fleming

o-o

 _Beginnings_

 _"Aren't we stepping into the trap?"_

 _"We are."_

 _"Then why?"_

 _"You mean there's a catch? We must play this on their terms, but we can't not have a card up our sleeve. That's why I'll be with you."_

 _"Are you sure about this?"_

 _"I am. Are you?"_

 _"No, but I… I trust you."_

Kurama was already set for his day, the lie he was going to feed to his family baked. He'd surmised that he'd need to devote his full time to this new venture if he wanted to solve the case immediately with less damage to other people involved, especially Aoshi.

She was extremely anxious, unable to fully grasp the strategy he'd drawn up for them, convinced that everything was far too convenient and obvious, that they were walking into the trap headlong.

But that was what he wanted—to give them what they wanted, but not letting them hold all the cards. They'd expected all _legitimate_ scientists to transfer to Todai. He'd assume the identity of a _faux_ scientist. That should shake them off their hinges.

While the brilliance of the plan was applauded by the rest of the group, Aoshi's reservations had been very clear to him as day. He'd have told her that she had no choice but to do as instructed, but he didn't have to when she finally said that she trusted him.

Somehow he felt that winning her trust—at least for the mission—was more than he asked for.

It was interesting how the professor could easily pick up on his hints and how she'd provided substantial evidence for the rest of them to work on. While everything seemed too easy, it was a start.

Finishing up his letter, he sealed it in its envelope and started for the office. He took a water bottle from the kitchen counter as he went for the door, staring at the purplish liquid inside and checking for its consistency.

Finding nothing unusual about this latest brew, he put it inside his briefcase and made his way to the train station.

Upon his arrival at the firm, he bypassed his floor for the topmost, pushing the door at the end of the hallway open to step into a brightly lit room, spacious and boasting a lucrative ambiance from the smaller number of harried employees and busy cubicles.

Kurama nodded at Hatanaka's secretary as she locked eyes with him. "Is the Chairman in? I need to speak with him."

"Have your way, Minamino," said she, scribbling away on her logbook.

Kurama thanked her and pushed the glass door open, stepping into the equally spacious office Hatanaka was currently occupying, the floor-to-ceiling window casting an air of authority the chairman didn't really project with his soft, square face, rectangular spectacles, and permanent smile.

"Good morning, Chairman," Kurama greeted, bowing as he stopped in front of the desk.

He looked up from his paperwork and flashed a bright grin, his dark eyes reduced to slits. "Shuichi! It's nice to see you. How have you been?"

"Quite well," Kurama said, returning the smile with his own. "You?"

"Ah, same old, same old. Your mother would like to see you for dinner on Thursday. Why don't you sit down?"

"Yes, Shuuichi has told me. I'll do my best to come, but I'm in a bit of a hurry, actually," Kurama said. "I only wanted to inform you of my leave from the office."

At Hatanaka's questioning look mixed with anxiety, Kurama handed him the envelope. The older man took it from his hands and looked up at him with the unspoken question.

"I've been summoned for another mission by the force. Like before, there's no certainty regarding the period of my absence, but if I don't call you in three days, then you may open the letter and find the person who'd know where I am."

Hatanaka's eyes were momentarily hidden by the glare off his glasses, which was perfect timing. Kurama knew he was disturbed by the tone in Kurama's voice, how easily he could talk about his potential demise. "Shuichi, what is it again this time?"

"It's confidential, I'm sorry," said Kurama, bowing to him. "Please tell my mother of it when you come home tonight. I'll be calling."

A heavy sigh escaped the old man's lips and he leant on his chair. "You're perfectly aware of your mother's reservations about this."

"It's been done before and it's the same routine, sir. I go and I return. I'll be with you on Thursday night, I promise."

At least his last statement was a certainty.

Hatanaka didn't bother to correct him. He had long realized Kurama's way of addressing him would stay the same no matter what. It was a matter of personal preference, as he couldn't hold him in too close a regard as to address him as his father. Hatanaka didn't say anything, nor did Shiori. It was as if they knew arguing with him was futile.

Kurama didn't bother changing that impression. He'd drawn up where he stood, and it would stay that way until he was with them.

"Then you'll go back to this mission."

"Yes, I will be doing so until its resolution."

Hatanaka nodded. "All right, I understand. Just… just come home to us, please, Shuichi?"

Kurama was getting too old for this. "Yes, sir."

"Good luck, then."

"Thank you."

He bowed and exited the office.

Without further incidence, he was able to board the train that would take him to Bunkyo. Upon exiting, he went for the public lavatory, taking the cubicle farthest from the door and waited until the other occupant of the restroom had exited, the retreating footfalls fading into the background of a busy subway.

Judging that the coast was clear, Kurama took out the water bottle from his briefcase and shook the contents. When he peered through the creamy, translucent liquid and found no particulates at the bottom, he uncapped the bottle and downed all the sixteen ounces of bitter brew in large, resounding gulps.

With the last drop gone, Kurama waited as the potion took its effect. An itch started at the back of his throat, as though from a cough that never was, which traveled to the back his head... to his face, to his nose. He resisted the urge to scratch at any point, reminding himself that it was all part of the process.

His scalp started itching, too, as his hair shrunk back, pulled away from his shoulders, twisting and turning. The red dissipated from the root to the tips, replaced by an oak-brown shade. Kurama's eyes slunk away from his hair as the itch traveled to the tip of his fingers and his toes, making them curl, and when he could no longer hold the overwhelming sense of an allergic attack, it stopped.

He released a heavy breath, fingers loosening from the death grip he hadn't realized he had on his briefcase. Straightening his back, he threw the bottle into the trash bin next to the toilet bowl after stuffing it with some toilet paper to soak up the remaining droplets inside.

With that done, he flushed the toilet for the impression that he'd been using it and opened the cubicle door, pivoting to see himself in the mirror by the sink.

His red hair was gone, replaced by a brown shade with kinks that would set Yusuke and Kuwabara to a jeering game. "Afro Kurama!" they'd probably be yelling.

But he had to deal with this as he'd enlisted himself for the infiltration.

It didn't turn out as a big disaster, though, as he managed to brush his otherwise wild hair into submission and put the locks into a ponytail, his bangs falling to the side of his face, his sideburns, albeit shorter, in place.

In fact, as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he thought he could do with the hairstyle even after the assignment. It kept the seeds more secure and well-hidden from anyone who didn't know they were there. Not that he prattled away with _that_ secret to everyone.

 _Hmm, maybe not._

He exited the lavatory and was starting for the direction of the Hongo campus of the University of Tokyo. He was too early for the time he and the professor had set; she was still having her morning lecture somewhere in the science building, and he thought of something to occupy himself.

Aside from observing the area, which was what he was already doing as he passed the gates and started for the Faculty of Science, he decided it would be great to put his disguise into test.

He checked his watch. It was already nine-fifty-three in the morning. He was considerably late for the first period, which was just perfect.

He strode down the stone path and greeted the security personnel by the lobby of the brick-red building.

"Hello, I'm Matsuda Kou," he said, putting on his best smile as he flashed his fake Stella-Bio ID at the unsuspecting fellow. Botan was quick to have it done after much persuading for the professor to lend hers as template. "I'm bound for the Department of Biological Sciences for a scheduled appointment with Professor Aoshi."

The guard nodded and motioned for him to continue without another word. Kurama walked to the lifts and pressed the call button. When he was finally admitted to the third floor, he found himself in a slight quandary for one, nervous moment.

It had been less obvious at first, but as he traced the faint, familiar smell of menthol and lily-of-the-valley shampoo, he abandoned the atrium and went for the lecture hall doors to his right. He pushed one door open and admitted himself inside, the booming voice of the professor standing on the lectern carrying through from where he was standing some ten rows away from the central podium.

Some less enthusiastic students whipped their heads to look at the new arrival, and he slipped into the seat of the empty row closest to the door. He ignored them as they continued observing him, staring straight through the bright hall littered with cream tables and blue swivel chairs, to where the professor had paused from her rapid-fire speech.

"Ah!" she said, finally realizing his presence. "A latecomer? Didn't I ever tell you of my policies? If you're going to come in during the last fifteen minutes of my class, then you might as well not come. Stealing your classmates' attention away from the lecture and breaking my momentum!"

Everyone—every single head—turned to look at him. Kurama's skin would have gone clammy if the professor had recognized him. She didn't, and it made him feel less uncomfortable.

He kept his cool and nodded his head, the picture of a repentant student.

"I want you to see me after class with an explanation."

She looked positively livid. He nodded again and let Aoshi proceed.

"So, as I was saying," she said, voice indignant and harassed, "not all phenotypes result from the expression of a single gene. Some genes located in other loci within the genome could contribute to the phenotypic expression either in an additive or non-additive way. Let's take for example the trait height."

Her finger tapped on the keyboard of her laptop, and a new slide in her presentation flashed before them, Kurama turning to see the graphs flashed on the screen hung above the white board.

Aoshi continued without giving the presentation a glance, the air about her that of someone who'd been at this for a while now. "When we speak of traits such as the height, there is always a basal level for an organism, only _intrinsically_ varying across sexes, races, and age groups. For example, women are generally shorter than most men, while Westerners are taller than Asians.

"But since height is a polygenic trait, there is always the probability that someone who's Japanese could be as tall as Michael Jordan or someone who's British could be just as tall as a midget. In the first case, we can say that the gene contributing to height quantitatively is present in many other loci within the genome, but for the latter, it's not possible. Why do you think so?"

"Professor," one student said, raising a hand. "It's because a British's basal height is not that of a midget and that since height is a polygenic trait, the physical manifestations should therefore be influenced by other non-additive alleles or factors… or other extraneous factors."

"Excellent, Mr. Shibasaki!" Aoshi was saying, nodding approvingly. "But that is only true if the British we talk of is full-blooded British. Notice that there are parents who are dwarves with children reaching normal height in puberty and adolescence."

She tapped on the laptop once more, and a picture of a smiling family of three flashed before them, the dwarf father being carried on the shoulders by his son who was taller than his wife.

"See here? The father obviously has dwarfism, a condition from the underactivity of the thyroid gland. But even then, his son reached his full-height potential, even surpassing his mother's. This is because he possesses the genes to have this height, and so does his father, only that in the latter's case the full expression is suppressed due to other intervening factors."

The bell signaling the end of the first period rang, and the students broke into a scramble as they collected their belongings.

"Read chapters 16 and 17 and prepare for a quiz next meeting," Aoshi said over the ruckus of the students hurrying to get out of the hall. Groans resounded from everyone, and Kurama stood up from his seat, maneuvering his way towards the aisle so he could reach the lectern where Aoshi was gathering her belongings.

A young student reached the professor faster than he did, and Kurama paused a few rows behind her, listening.

"Professor, I need to speak with you," the girl said, pleading.

Aoshi wasn't looking at the student. "What is it, Miss Honda? Can't you schedule an appointment with me in the department? The next period's in ten minutes."

"No, I'm sorry, ma'am, I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. I was thinking if you could assign me additional workload to compensate for my journal report."

The professor let go of the cord she was disassembling. "I beg your pardon?" she said, eyebrows raised.

Honda bristled, her ponytail quivering from fright. "You can give me anything—a paper or a report or a case study. I just need to pass this course, ma'am."

Upon the student's low bow, Aoshi only scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Pass your remaining exams and submit well-written papers. There's nothing else I would give you than is required of the course."

"But Professor—!"

"No, Miss Honda. If I tolerate your incompetence, then I will have to tolerate everyone else's. Now give us both a favor and quit your dallying. There will be no additional credits for you, and that's final."

The student struggled for words and hung her head, defeated. Kurama turned to see a few other spectators who hadn't gone out of the hall, their faces set in anticipation.

Something should happen…

"You're a vindictive bitch! A remorseless cow!" Honda was screaming, pumping a fist towards the professor's direction, accusing her of a crime that never was.

Kurama wanted to cover his ears drummed at by the high-pitched histrionics echoing through the huge hall, attracting everyone else who'd been at the door like moths to a small speckle of light.

"You never listen to what we have to say! You're insufferable and insensitive! God knows how many of us had wanted you to die in that fire! You're a demon's spawn!"

The cool, impassive expression on Aoshi's face faltered at the student's last words. It was only momentary, as her lips curled to a smirk before they took the shape of a pout.

 _"Moof, moof!"_

Honda froze, her face scrunching in confusion. Kurama felt his own twist. "What?"

Aoshi's smirk became broader as she chuckled. "I'm a cow-bitch, right? _Moof, moof!_ "

A writhing in the pit of his stomach told Kurama the professor's joke felt too below-the-belt.

She was cocking her head every which way as she taunted the student further. " _Moof, moof,_ Miss Honda, _moof, moof, moof!_ "

The student broke into tears and pushed Kurama out of her way as she bolted for the door, the others giving her a wide berth as she ran past them unseeingly.

Kurama turned to Aoshi who was glaring up at him, blowing a lock of hair too short for the bun sitting at the back of her head.

Her eyes flicked upwards, towards the door and the rest of the class unmoved from the where they'd taken root.

Aoshi's voice was laced with venom. "Well? What are you waiting for? Show's over! Scram!"

The mildly veiled threat of another probable humiliation set everybody to motion, and Aoshi turned to her belongings, hands moving quickly but distractedly. Kurama noticed the way her fingers were shaking, unable to concentrate on the task at hand. He realized it had nothing to do with getting even with the student. The mention of _that_ word had set her off more than the other insults thrown her way.

The professor could use a break, but it couldn't be now. It would be counterproductive if she didn't get used to it.

Kurama walked the last few feet to the desk, deposited his briefcase at his feet, and offered his hand in front of her.

"Why are you late?" she asked, ignoring his gesture.

"I'm not late, Professor."

Aoshi's hands stilled a second late and she slowly looked up at him, eyebrows knitted as she studied his face, roving at his features. She was blinking rapidly, looking him up, down, then back again, before her mouth fell open.

Kurama's offered hand moved to settle on her mouth and her exclamation was muffled. "Keep it down, Professor. I'm in a disguise for a reason," he whispered, leaning towards her.

Face suddenly red and warmer than he'd expected, her hands let go of the strap of the black bag she'd put the laptop in and pulled at his wrist to unclasp his hold on her.

"W-what? How—?"

He found it almost amusing that even after she'd ridden herself of the obstruction to her speech, she was unable to say anything coherent from her shock. He must have done a terrific job to elicit the priceless expression she wore now.

"I'll tell you later. But first, you must know that I'm Matsuda Kou."

Kurama wordlessly took the laptop bag and offered her own handbag to her before bending down to take his briefcase.

When she didn't make a move, he smiled at her and cocked his head to the side. "Shall we? My future employers are waiting."

o-o

"What possessed you to sneak on me while I was having a lecture?" Chiaki asked, appalled that the redhead— _brunette_ —should see how big of a bitch she was to her students.

It shouldn't be mistaken for shame; she was known as the Yuki-Onna to the rest of the school and she took all of the insults thrown her way with a grain of salt. She wasn't a heartless teacher. She was only being fair and just to her students. It was the way it should be. College wouldn't be college without professors breathing down your neck and pushing you to your limits. If the student slacked, then they'd get the mark they deserved. She had no room for considering the insolent. If they didn't like her method, then they could drop her course anytime.

She didn't freaking care if it broke them down. There would be people with more pressing problems than they could write with the trivial matters they let in as distractions to their pursuit for higher education.

Honda had been one of the few students who thought less of a professor's authority. Chiaki only stuck to the university regulations and to what the course required of her as a teacher and as a just person. If she tolerated the misbehavior of one out of a hundred, she wasn't being fair to the ninety-nine others.

Kurama's timing only mattered to her as it could've given him the wrong impression of how she actually was as a professor. Everybody thought she was the spawn of a dragon, of a _demon_ , but she'd learned to laugh it off long ago since everyone knew it was far from the truth.

She genuinely cared for the students; she just didn't want to favor a single person and forsake the many. She just wanted to be fair. Sadly, humans are naturally inclined to maximize and pass judgment to people who hinder their personal gains.

 _Talk about how unfair life is and the world being full of idiots._

"I only wanted to test the disguise on you," said Kurama, pushing open the door and letting her pass first.

She waited for him to get out of the hall before she said, "Something tells me that was actually unnecessary."

For all she knew, he could have really just wanted to see her make a fool out of herself as she retaliated to an imbecile of a student who dared to call her names more than she'd ever recited in class.

Kurama's crimped bangs swayed a bit as he shook his head in disbelief. "All right, I admit I was curious."

Chiaki rolled her eyes. "Curious to see an insensitive cow-bitch make a student the receiving end of a sick joke?"

He raised his dark eyebrows at her. "I wasn't expecting to see any of it, I promise."

She hitched her handbag higher up her shoulder, taking the laptop bag from Kurama as they turned to another hallway that would lead them to the department at its opposite end. The cream-colored walls were lit with the sunlight streaming from the outside through the glass paneled windows, and they walked in almost companionable silence with the occasional passers-by throwing the new person with the kinky hairstyle odd looks.

"You just happened to be there," Chiaki said. "You have a knack of coming at the most convenient of times, do you know that?"

He smiled at her, shaking his head as he raised an upturned palm to gesture towards her. "I could say the same about you."

Picking up on its meaning, Chiaki settled for a new topic. "It's a bit distracting, you know? You have _his_ voice but not his hair. Tell me, who designed the hairdo?"

"I did. Do you like it?" he said, smoothening out his bangs with a wide, teasing smile.

Chiaki scoffed, snorting into her hand as she chuckled. "Oh god, the femme fatale consulting with a manly woman."

He merely tilted his head at her as she continued to heave, catching her breath from her laughter and humorless joke. "Is there something wrong if I did?"

"No," said Chiaki, turning to him and staring straight at his face. "But honestly, green eyes and brown hair? I know you're a fanatic of plants but is there really a need to wear their colors?"

"Not all plants are brown and green."

She only stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a random choice," he said. "I've worn too many disguises before."

"And you've been left with kinks and brown? Mind you, they sort of look like roots from this angle."

"You have excellent eyes and quite a store of metaphors, Professor."

"Why, thanks for noticing."

They stopped in front of the glass-and-wooden double doors to the department, and she led him inside, gesturing for him to take the chaise longue by the waiting area.

"Wait for when I call you for the interview."

Kurama only did as he was told, smiling at her. Chiaki then continued down the hallway ending to an open area where the faculty room was situated. She greeted her co-teachers on break who more or less acknowledged her, making a beeline to her cubicle and depositing her belongings.

"Professor Minamata," said Chiaki, grasping the divider to peer into the cubicle adjacent to hers. The stout, wheezing professor turned to her, eyes drooping too early into the day. "Is the Chairman in?"

"Yes, he has seen the applicant's portfolio," he replied in his drawling voice.

"Thank you," said Chiaki, offering him a tight smile. She marched to the door by the opposite side of the room, latching at the doorknob as she knocked on it.

"Come in."

She pushed the door open and bowed after admitting herself inside the humble office of the Chairman, the window blinds pulled up to admit sunlight into the room.

"Good morning, Professor. Matsuda has arrived."

"Professor Aoshi," he said, fixing her with a sincere expression. "Are you confident in this young man?"

Chiaki projected more assurance into her voice. "He was an excellent colleague at Stella-Bio, Professor. He'd make a good addition to the faculty."

The Chairman made a steeple out of his fingers and pressed his lips to them. "I've known you since you were a student, Professor, and I trust your judgment."

That proclamation sent Chiaki's ego to the roof and her heart rate on overdrive. While she celebrated the fact that the Chairman had so much confidence in her, she couldn't help but feel guilty that this was all just a ploy to serve their underlying purpose.

But she needed answers. She _needed_ to know.

"Thank you, Professor. Shall I call him in?"

"Yes, please."

Chiaki bowed to the aging man in his crisp suit and exited the room. Kurama was as still as a statue when she found him, staring up at the departmental organization chart hung on the wall across from him.

"Hey, you ready?" she asked, hands clasped behind her.

"Of course," he replied, standing up and pulling at his jacket to smarten himself up. "I didn't know you were the head of the human resource unit."

"I didn't know it mattered," she said, jerking her head for him to follow. "Although indeed, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be having your interview now."

"Does that warrant words of gratitude from me?"

His manner of sniping at her felt more like a challenge than anything. "No. I was merely underscoring how important I am, no matter how I appear inconsequential to most."

Kurama was bowing to the clerk and the other teachers who gazed his way, and when he came level with her by the Chairman's office, he whispered, "That I saved you from choking to death should prove it more than anything."

Chiaki's nostrils flared at the memory. She knocked at the door and stuck her head inside, "He's here, Professor," she said to the Chairman who only nodded at her. When she withdrew her head, she said, wagging a finger at Kurama, "Get in and don't screw things up."

"Have some confidence in me, Professor," Kurama was saying before he disappeared behind the door.

With the demon gone, she released a big sigh and went for the bathroom. Kurama's appearance got the disagreeable student's words off her mind, but now with no one to distract her, she craved for a smoke.

Locking herself in the farthest cubicle from the door, she took the cigarette pack from her pocket, lit up one stick, and sat herself on the toilet bowl with the cover down. Taking a long first drag from the stick and breathing it out through her nostrils to release the metaphorical burden on her shoulders, she let them sag as she curled up on the toilet seat.

She didn't know why that single word rattled her, knowing full well what Honda had actually meant when she said it. Whether it was because there were actual demon spawns and offspring in their midst or just because she was dimly reminded of the current happenings in her life was already beyond her.

Not to mention Kurama was inside the same building as she was, already underway in executing their plans. She hadn't initially agreed to it, but after much persuasion, she realized there was no point in arguing with a determined soul.

She'd have to come with him to the IMCB so they could apply for employment, and while she trusted that he was knowledgeable enough (in paper and in deed), she was still anxious if he could really pass as a scientist.

The interview with the Chairman should determine if he'd need an extreme crash course in advanced laboratory protocols and etiquette, and Chiaki wasn't looking forward to spending extra time with him when she could be alone with herself and her paperwork.

Her cigarette was out in a matter of three minutes, and she yanked some toilet paper to wrap the butt with, throwing the bunch along with the wrapper of the mint chew that was already in her mouth.

She washed her hands on the sink and stared herself in the mirror, trying to see if she looked like someone had pissed in her cereal bowl this morning. The smoke had calmed her down somehow, but with the looming interview at the IMCB, it would probably take her more than a pack to reach the type of calm she desired at the moment.

It had taken her a few more sharp breaths before she leaned away from the sink, fixing a wayward lock of hair back to the bun she'd put up this morning, and headed back to the faculty room.

She craned her neck to see through the window blinds of the Chairman's office if Kurama was already done with the interview, but when she saw the uncharacteristic shock of kinky brown hair turned towards her, she sat herself back to her cubicle.

"You don't smell good," said Minamata from his cubicle. "Did something happen again, Professor?"

Chiaki opened her class record and located Honda's name, reviewing the marks she'd given her for the course requirements.

"Oh, the usual. A student telling me how bad a teacher I am."

Honda had failed her journal report, and Chiaki would have given her deductions from the words she'd thrown her way, but Chiaki didn't believe getting even just because she had authority over her grades was the best form of revenge. She'd deal with this like a conscious human being, able to be rational and emphatic to the less sensitive ilk. She dealt with the students as they performed in class, and she wouldn't put it against them if they insulted her at the ring of the bell.

It was called being plastic—versatile, synthetic, malleable.

"What did they call you today?"

Even though Minamata didn't sound like an enthusiastic conversationalist, Chiaki welcomed the offered distraction. "A cow-bitch."

"Oh? And what did you say?" he replied, not bothering to fake concern over this most common occurrence.

"Moof, moof," she replied, drawling it out like he did.

Minamata didn't reply for a beat, and when he did, it sounded like he was smiling. Or so she wanted to think that he was. "You're ingenious."

"Students need to be toned down every once in a while."

"You have a gift for it."

Chiaki snorted, as she was reminded of the Witch of a Random Impasse in Shibuya. "If only it makes for good money."

"Sure it does. The Chairman finds it charismatic. He wouldn't have recommended you to the IMCB if he didn't," Minamata was quick to assure her.

She could picture him scribbling on his notebook as he was speaking, completely able to project that much sincerity in his voice while he wrote out his lecture plan. Chiaki briefly mused if she would ever reach his level in multitasking as a seasoned member of the academe and scientific community after all this was over.

With her agreement to being an instrument for the resolution of the case, Chiaki had risked her whole career and left it hanging by a cliff on a stormy day. If they screwed up, she was done for.

But as her eyes landed on the cubicle two spots across from hers, empty save for some unlit incense sticks, a small pot of flowers, and a picture of a man who didn't know how to smile, she felt that it was worth it.

This was for Yamamoto and his untimely death. This was for all who died because of some twisted power play.

"He might have only done that since Stella-Bio's closed down."

"We've always wanted you to join us."

"You know why I never did."

Minamata hummed under his breath, the signal of the end of their conversation, and Chiaki turned to the stack of papers on her desk waiting to be checked. She silently wished she wouldn't need too much ink in correcting them. Her students should know better not to settle for mediocre work now or they'd carry it over for when they were already working.

Really, she wasn't much of a terror professor.

o-o

Aoshi must have gone out of her way to give Ishihara the endorsement that she did. The moment the interview began, the Chairman was already congratulating him for securing an appointment through her. It was apparently a difficult task to find a replacement to the late Yamamoto, but with Aoshi's recommendation, their plan looked more feasible now. The last minute instructions she'd given last night worked like a spell, as the Chairman's eyes were becoming softer and softer as the interview went on.

Not ten minutes later, Ishihara was clapping him on the shoulder and he guided him out of the small office. He called for everyone's attention, and Kurama saw Aoshi stick her head from a cubicle next to a pudgy man's, wearing a smirk on her face as she stood up, her hands akimbo. The definite smell of tobacco and mint wafted from her, tickling Kurama's nostrils a bit.

"Everyone, please meet Matsuda Kou. He'll be starting to work with us next week and will take up Professor Aoshi's load."

A collective gasp resounded inside the room, and Kurama's head whipped to look at the Chairman, then to Aoshi whose face looked like she could use the bathroom.

Ishihara continued, "In turn, Professor Aoshi will be filling Professor Yamamoto's vacated post." He beckoned for the shell-shocked professor who mechanically walked up to the two of them. "Congratulations, you two. Aoshi, please take care of him."

Kurama bowed just as the Chairman did, and soon the three of them were looking down on their shoes. When they straightened up, Aoshi widened her eyes at him in disbelief and awe, probably from how fast things had fallen into place.

The Chairman left the two of them for his office while everyone else went back to their businesses after congratulating them. Aoshi was shaking her head, almost wanting to laugh, and she turned her back to him, beckoning for him to follow her.

She checked her watch when they reached her cubicle. "I'm free till fourth period. Let's go for that other interview."

"Make sure you give him a briefing, Professor," said Minamata, leaning away from his chair to look the two of them in the face.

"Of course, sir. The Chairman made that clear."

Aoshi smirked up at Kurama knowingly, her eyes sparkling in silent amusement. She took her hand bag and jacket, and the two of them went to exit.

On their way, the door opened before Aoshi could get hold of the handle and she stumbled back, leaning dangerously close to Kurama as she prevented her fall with one foot. The offender was automatically delivering his apologies but faltered when he saw Aoshi, not even noticing the other presence behind her.

"Oh, it's only you, Chiaki," he said, eyebrows shooting up to his forehead. He held a stack of papers in one hand, a bag slung over his shoulder, spectacles glinting from the lighting inside the department.

If he called her by her first name, then they should be fairly intimate with each other.

But Aoshi's next words were laced with venom. She crossed her arms as she spoke, "Yeah, _only_ me. Guess that doesn't entitle me to receive your apologies if you can help it, even when I _almost_ did fall."

"You don't have to be spiteful about it. It means I don't think you're overtly sensitive."

Aoshi scoffed. "Am I supposed to be flattered now?"

"No," he said, finally looking to see Kurama who was observing the subtle exchange of heated words. "Were you on your way out, sir? Sorry Chiaki and I had to stall you."

"He's actually with me," said Aoshi, snarling at the unnamed person. "And don't call me Chiaki. It's Aoshi."

He wasn't looking at her when he said, "He is? I didn't know you still had admirers, _Chiaki."_

"He's a new faculty member. Get your head out of the gutter and do us the favor of getting out of the way while you're at it. And it's Aoshi. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"You don't have to. I'll call you whatever I want to call you," he said, sidestepping to let them pass. "Bye, Chiaki and… what's your name?"

Kurama turned back to face him while Aoshi continued the rest of the way to exit the room with the mint green walls. "Matsuda. Matsuda Kou," he said, bowing.

"Pleasure. It's Urawa Isamu," the man said, bowing to him. "See you around."

Kurama bowed to him again, letting the door fall closed before he jogged to cover the distance a fuming Aoshi had put between the two of them in so short a time.

"Who is he?" he dared to ask.

"God, didn't he introduce himself? He's Mr. Prick, that's who he is," said Aoshi too quickly, sounding like how Keiko did when Yusuke was fooling around. Frustrated and annoyed.

"He did tell me his name. I was only wondering who he is to you," he dared again, too amused that someone could get a rise out of her without doing much but throw a few words her way.

"He's no one important," she said, glaring up at him. "Could you grant me a favor? Don't ever mention him again. Ever."

"I can't be sure about that. He'll be a colleague, after all," Kurama tried, wanting to see how she'd react.

She bared her teeth at him and snarled like she did just a few moments prior, clearly choleric. "Not when I'm around, do you understand?"

"All right," said Kurama, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally.

"That was tongue-in-cheek."

"You can read minds?"

She put on her jacket as they entered the empty lift car. "I can control minds as well. Otherwise, Ishihara wouldn't have hired you."

"I knew you were a _magnet_ for good luck," he said, smiling at her as he followed her, standing at the corner opposite the one she occupied.

Picking on his jibe, Aoshi made a show of curtseying. "At your service."

Kurama didn't know what else to throw her way, so he settled for a new topic. "How will it go with the IMCB?"

"We get to the office and wait for the interviewer. We then get interviewed and we get in or we don't. Simple."

Kurama looked at her who was inspecting her nails in nonchalance. She didn't seem to feel his gaze on her for a few moments and when she did turn to him, her eyes were narrowed.

"Oh, bother. You can manage. You're quite cool."

The lift doors opened with a ding and she was hurrying to get out as the ramification of her pronouncement dawned on the two of them. Kurama was already grinning, keeping up with her.

"I am cool?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, tapping at the bun on top of her head, keeping her pace. "I'm sure you've heard it more than I've said it."

"You think so?"

She looked over her shoulder as they reached the stone pavement outside, basking in the glow of the morning sun. "Yeah, I do. You're being obnoxious."

Kurama's smile grew. "I am?"

"Dammit, Ku—"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out as his hand found its way to her mouth out of reflex.

"Professor, not here!" he said in a harsh whisper, looking over her head for anyone who could have heard. Thankfully, the small knots of students scuttling about them didn't notice her almost-slip, continuing on their way as they chattered about.

She grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand away from her face, grimacing. "Right, sorry, it won't happen again."

He dropped his hand and placed it inside his coat's pocket. "Thank you."

Aoshi was fiddling with her collar before she turned away from him, walking again. "But _if_ it ever happens, could you at least do away with touching me? Just cut me off with a warning."

Was she unsettled? "I'm sorry. It was instinctive."

She waved a hand to dismiss his apologies, still not looking at him. "Don't sweat it. It's not like you can read minds or something."

"Oh, all right."

The rest of their walk was silent, and Kurama kept his distance from her as she led the way to the IMCB. He didn't know she found it uncomfortable that he touched her, and somehow, even though he wasn't supposed to, he felt like he violated her privacy.

He shouldn't be thinking too much about it, but the fact that he made the wrong impression of her again didn't sit well with him. Her meeting him head-on with her comebacks had been amusing at best, but because of them he thought she was fine with an innocent touch at his part.

Why that set her off, even when he had the best intentions, was beyond him.

They had probably walked a mile before she halted in front of a towering building, its white and blue façade sticking up from the brown-hued ones they'd passed by in an oddly complementary way. The patio led to a set of glass doors, and Kurama read from the bold, golden letters from the overhang, "Institute of Molecular and Cellular Biosciences".

"Are you hungry? We still have ten minutes before the interview. There's a cafeteria inside," she said, the first time she addressed him in all of their twenty-minute walk.

"We would be late."

"We wouldn't."

When she didn't say anything, Kurama sighed. She didn't sound like she genuinely was concerned whether he'd eaten. "I had breakfast earlier," he said, hopeful.

"Well, I didn't, and you're coming with me," she said, confirming his thoughts, before walking the rest of the way to the door.

She flashed her faculty ID towards the guard and told him of their business. Kurama was asked to sign the logbook and surrender his fake Stella-Bio ID before being given a visitor's pass.

The interior was nothing but impressive, high-ceilinged and boasting glass doors and dividers. The upper stories were accessible through the lifts and staircases, the railed walkways overlooking the wide lobby.

Aoshi turned to a pristine-looking corridor to their right, and Kurama read the sign bearing the characters for their destination with other units along the same direction.

"At least let me get you something," she was saying as they entered the equally large cafeteria filled with scientists on their breaks.

A gnawing settled at the pit of his chest as Kurama felt out of place, even as the occupants abided by the large, bold sign by the door reading, "Come in as a hungry person. Leave the scientist outside." Not a single one wore a laboratory coat.

"A cup of green tea would be nice."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

They lined up and Aoshi took a tray wordlessly. She indicated their orders, stopping Kurama from getting his wallet with a look. He offered to carry the tray in exchange, which she didn't mind the least bit.

A square table by the wall next to the door was unoccupied, and she pointed at it for them to take. Once settled in their seats, they dug in, and Kurama silently watched her as she ate her bagel and drank her coffee in a hurry.

"You must be very hungry," said Kurama, looking at her over the brim of his cup.

She took a gulp of hot coffee and sighed, "Quite. Life is hectic."

"No wonder you were miffed by that student."

"That," she said, pointing a finger at him, "doesn't have anything to do with missed breakfast."

She finished her bagel and gulped the last of her coffee, taking Kurama by surprise at how fast she'd eaten everything. With a swift move, she wiped her lips with the paper towel, spraying some hand sanitizer on her palms, which she offered to him.

He emptied his cup as well, holding out his hand for her to spray on. They rose together and she pushed the cuff of her jacket to look at her watch.

"We've got three minutes, let's go," she said, hitching her hand bag higher up her shoulder.

She was practically jogging, and Kurama said as he kept up with her, "I knew we'd be late."

"Shut up, we wouldn't," she said over her shoulder, punching the call button. The lift doors opened in an instant, and she let him inside before she punched at the button to close the doors.

Even as she assured him that they wouldn't be tardy, her tapping her heeled foot didn't make her statement ardent in any way. Kurama silently counted the seconds that passed in his head, and when the ding reached them both, they had thirty seconds to spare.

Aoshi was galloping and it took all his reserve to stop himself from laughing at the way she ran on heels even as he almost copied her. The coffee must have kicked in already, even if it shouldn't have just yet.

They took a sharp left and Kurama read, "Human Resources Department" on the door at one side of the corridor where the professor had latched herself onto, panting slightly.

"Professor?"

"Ten seconds," she said, placing a hand on her chest. After a few calming breaths, she straightened herself and tugged at her jacket, blowing a wayward lock of hair from her face.

She pushed the door open and let him inside, bowing to the attendant as she did.

"Ah, Chiaki!" the tall woman said, all traces of formality gone from her tone as she laid her eyes on the professor. "It's good to see you! Finally joining us, eh? Erika will throw a party, that's for sure!"

"It's not like I have a choice, Nao," said Aoshi, smiling down at her friend. Then, jumping slightly as he remembered his presence, she gestured to him with a lazy hand. "This is Matsuda, he worked with me at Stella-Bio. We have an interview with Ozu. Is he in?"

The receptionist nodded at Kurama briefly before turning back to her ledger. "I'm sorry but Ozu's absent today. He called in sick just fifteen minutes ago. But the officer-in-charge should be coming in a few."

Aoshi's nostrils flared, her face falling. "You mean Urawa?"

The door squeaked as someone entered, and all three of them pivoted in their spots to see the familiar, smirking face.

"Yes, Chiaki," he said, his smirk broadening at the sight of a glaring Aoshi. "Are you ready?"

o-o

"Professor, aren't you happy? We've been hired."

Chiaki was seething inside, gnawing at her lip for the better part of the hour. "Happy, my ass. That scallywag's unbelievable. How does he manage to get past every day with a stick up his scrawny ass?"

Even in her low days, Chiaki hadn't used this much language in her speech. But Urawa was such a brat, a reminder why she never wanted to be a full-time researcher and faculty staff at Todai.

It was almost a blessing that he'd consented to interviewing them jointly, as Kurama's ephemeral cool attitude had somehow channeled through and placated her even for just fifteen grueling minutes of enduring an obnoxious, ill-willed bully who didn't care that they had someone unfamiliar in their midst, completely unperturbed as he made his incessant jabs at her.

God, how she _loathed_ him and all of him.

"You hate him that much, don't you, Professor?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, yes I do. Hate him with a passion you'll never be able to word."

"Aren't you too old for that?"

"I'm only twenty-seven! He's thirty-two!" she said, offended.

"You must be fairly intimate with each other if you know his exact age."

Her face fell upon realizing that she'd been chewing Kurama's ear off with her ranting. "Why are we even talking about him?"

He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his legs, the picture of a man with nothing else to do but look respectable and sophisticated. There was something about the way Kurama held himself that just screamed feminine.

"I didn't _explicitly_ ask you to talk about him," he said, staring far off the courtyard and the maple trees adorning the length of the university road.

Even as he'd ridden the sentence with any hint of sarcasm, the meaning wasn't lost on her. But he was right, in a way. She'd asked not to speak about him, ever, and yet she'd started at it again.

She wasn't going to dignify him with any form of retaliation.

With nothing else to say, she steered the conversation to one of importance, placing a hand on the stone bench they had occupied a good distance away from the place that had taken sinister to a whole new level since last night's discussion.

"Anyway, I was wondering if I could read the reports on the findings," she said. "I could use the chance to get oriented to all the weird."

"You need to stop thinking about everything that's been occurring that way, Professor. These things should be taken in stride."

"Which is why I'd like to read stuff on them, Master Matsuda," she said with a mock bow.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, green irises scrutinizing her. "All right, I'll hand them over to you later today. Also, I haven't told you yet but I need to install some plants in your apartment as well."

"Install? Plants?"

Kurama's lips curled to a small smile. "Oh yes, it's the story for this day. I manipulate plants. That weapon you saw me using the first time you encountered us was actually a whip from the stalk of a rose. Although, we wouldn't need any of that. The plants I'll be installing are for defensive purposes."

Chiaki's head reeled at the sudden onslaught of information she hadn't braced herself to receive. "Wait, what?"

"I keep seeds in my hair, remember?"

"I know that. But keeping seeds in your hair can come with a whole other spectrum of implications."

"Well, now things should be clearer."

"Not crystal."

He sighed, touching the curly bangs adorning his face. "You always need a demonstration," he said, and he indicated the mat of grass under their feet, prompting her to look down.

The flattened leaf blades jumped erect, swaying as the stolon slowly crawled every which way until they touched the stone material of the bench, after which they climbed up, supported by the new substrate.

Chiaki's eyes widened, and she raised her heeled feet off the mass of greenery still wriggling and almost reaching the exposed skin of her feet, hugging her knees to her chest in silent panic as the grass continued exploring the stone they'd anchored themselves onto, minute adventitious roots slipping through the small cracks of the bench.

"Okay, that's enough!" she said, swiping at Kurama's arm, breath rattled. "Stop it!"

The grass stopped moving, and the shoots withdrew, reverting back to their original mowed length. A sigh of relief escaped Chiaki, and she gingerly placed her feet back on the still ground.

"That was scary and fascinating at the same time."

He smiled. "You haven't seen me with my demonic plants."

"I think now's not the right time for that."

"I think so, too. But do you believe me now?"

"Heck, yeah. I rely on observations, remember?"

"Perfectly."

They stared at each other for one, whole moment, before Chiaki rose and dusted her pinstriped pants. "I should get going. I'll see you where?"

"At the diner. Give us a call."

"Okay." She turned to walk away, waving at him.

"And Professor?"

She paused, turning to the less familiar person with his curls and brown hair. "Hmm?"

"Be careful."

He said it with such seriousness and urgency that she felt her heart stop for a second.

Was it this dangerous?

She offered him a small smile and cocked an eyebrow to show that she could handle the pressure. "After choking on ramen? I'll be stupid not to remember that."

* * *

A/N:

So that's it for the chapter. I've been meaning to upload this last night as a study break but the site was down for one whole day. Also, I write everything for a reason, so I'm sorry if you think I'm dragging this out. You'll see why I write this story the way I do.

Thank you to everyone who added this story to their faves and alerts! :)

How's the chapter? Love it? Hate it? Please leave a review!

See you!


	9. III - Zwischenzug

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part III

 _"Every science begins as philosophy and ends as art."_

– Will Durant

o-o

 _Zwischenzug_

Yusuke hurriedly placed a paper bag containing the bowls of steaming ramen on the counter, grinning at the two of them as they rose from their seats.

"Urameshi, you really shouldn't have," said Aoshi, waving a hand.

"You two met up at a diner. It's kinda ridiculous if you don't get something to eat."

"If you insist, then. Next time I'll make sure to bring you something," the professor said, smiling at him.

Yusuke offered her a smile of his own, and turned to Kurama. "Koenma's sent troops to G&P and other labs within the estimated radius, by the way. We didn't smell anything fishy about the place when we checked earlier."

"I felt nothing in Todai, too," said Kurama, a little dejected, but hopeful. After he and the professor had split up, he took a detour and walked about the campus to see if there was anything remotely suspicious and demonic within the vicinity. "But that doesn't rule out the possibility."

"Sure," said Yusuke, nodding his head. "You better go. Dinner rush will start in ten. Keiko will kick me out if I slack."

"Oh, please tell her I said hi," Aoshi was saying as she laughed at the mental image. Kurama took the paper bag from the counter and she gently took his briefcase from him so he could handle the package more securely. Kurama muttered his thanks at this surprising gesture of hers even when it was completely unnecessary.

"Will do," said Yusuke, grinning.

They moved to exit the diner, and Aoshi waved her hand at Yusuke as the door tinkled close. He automatically took up the side of the path close to the traffic, ambling with the professor as she led the now familiar path they'd taken last night.

"You feel… people's auras?" she asked as they rounded a corner to the main street. "As in, sense them?"

"Yes."

"It applies to demons, too?"

"It applies to everything, actually. I can feel your presence even before you step into the room."

When she tilted her head to look at him, wonder was written on her face. "Fascinating and scary."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Both advantageous and disadvantageous, you know? You're aware if someone's out to harm you, and you're just aware of everybody else. It's like you're always restless."

She had a perfect grasp of the concept even for someone who was only hearing about it now.

To his surprise, she started cackling. "Though when I think about how you just said that now, feeling my presence and all, it's nothing short of romantic, in a sense."

Her laughter echoed through and she leaned on the wall of a random building, clutching at her stomach as she doubled over. "Geez, I can kill myself."

Kurama's lips twitched as he considered her. "You're easy to amuse."

She wiped at her eyes with her jacket's sleeve. "Urameshi's lame joke almost choked me to death. Tell me about it."

It took her a while to regain mastery of herself, but after dusting her hand on her pinstriped pants, Aoshi straightened up and they continued their walk to the station. With the occasional quips at each other, they reached her apartment, and as she was unlocking the door, a woman exited another unit down the open walkway bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

"Professor Aoshi, good evening!" she said, smiling, coming towards them, hands holding a loaded bag of trash. Kurama surmised she was a housewife, if the apron was enough to tell.

"Kitagawa, good evening," said Aoshi just as she managed to slide the key into the lock. "You're putting out the trash this early?"

"My son's art project was all over his room. I had to clean up before dinner," she said, looking up at Kurama. "Hello, sir…?"

"Matsuda," said he, bowing as the older woman did.

"I'm Kitagawa, it's nice to meet you." The woman smiled at Aoshi, eyes sparkling. "I haven't seen you invite someone to your home in a long while. Is he your boyfriend?"

Aoshi's face fell, reddened and appalled at the idea. Kurama couldn't fault her. Even he had to exert additional effort for his internal cringing not to show on his face.

"No," said Aoshi, a little too sharply. "He's a colleague, that's all."

Kitagawa's falsely-pleasant eyes lingered on her before turning to him and the bag he was hugging to his chest. "Well, the take-away figures. You used to cook for your boyfriend, didn't you?"

The housewife didn't seem to be aware of when to stop talking and prying. The professor's shoulders rose as she shook faintly, her fingers clenching to a fist.

He had no clue as to what he could do to save their faces as Aoshi didn't look like she was going to say anything harmless. Thankfully, Kitagawa remembered she had something more productive to do than taking underhanded jabs at someone else's personal life.

"Oh, I must go. My husband should be arriving soon."

Not that _that_ statement was any better.

Kitagawa left them by the door, disappearing to the direction of the stairwell. Kurama watched her retreating figure for a long time, wondering if she had intentionally wanted to put Aoshi on a spot. It was almost as if dwelling on someone else's life was a pastime for a bored housewife as she.

Shiori wasn't like that, and Kurama had never been prouder of his human mother until now. She enjoyed the breaks between their arrival and departure from the house, making real friends in the neighborhood and engaging in reclamation activities that didn't have to entail gossiping and bad faith. Only insecure people with nothing better to do would partake in such less-intelligible things.

Aoshi's tightly-shut eyes snapped open and she slid open the door, flipping the lights on as she entered the house. She wordlessly beckoned for him to come inside, taking off her high-heeled sandals and setting them on the shoe rack before slipping into her house slippers.

He deposited the bag of ramen on the floor before he shook off his coat, hanging it on the hook at the back of the door, next to where she'd placed hers.

"The kitchen's down the hallway. Just put the ramen on the counter while I put these away," she said, lifting his briefcase and her bag for him to see. She didn't wait for his response and slipped into the open entryway to what he could only assume was the living room.

He walked the rest of the distance to the kitchen after slipping into one pair of guest slippers and did as she instructed, taking out the now lukewarm bowls of noodle and placing them on the counter. Aoshi didn't come for a good three minutes, probably as she was trying to take her time to simmer down from the unwelcome intrusion of a neighbor, and it was enough time for him to survey the interior of this part of the humble house.

A small square table was placed in the center, completely laden with a plain cream tablecloth and a lace placemat where a small pot containing a dwarf sansevieria was sitting. Along the wall with the blue-curtained windows, the sink was next to the stove and oven, while a refrigerator stood by the counter. Cupboards lined the wall, and a pantry was pushed by a backdoor.

The professor appeared by the doorway and went for one of the cupboards, extracting a small casserole she placed on the stove which she turned on, a small flicker of blue-and-orange flame roaring to life as she bent down.

"Hand me the ramen, please?" she said, and he did as she asked.

She poured the contents of the disposable bowls into the casserole and gestured to the dinner table. "Take a seat. It's my kitchen. I can manage."

There was something about the way that she spoke that made Kurama think twice about helping her out even when she didn't want him to. Sinking into a wooden chair, Kurama watched as she took out her own set of bowls and cutlery, setting them in front of him and on the other side of the table.

"Tea?" she asked with her back turned to him.

"Yes, thank you."

Then Aoshi was serving him heated ramen and freshly-brewed tea. She quietly shuffled through the kitchen, taking out chilled sushi from the refrigerator as sides to their meal.

When she didn't look like she was going to speak to him after mouthfuls of ramen, he figured he ought to apologize for adding to her discomfort.

"Professor?"

She wordlessly looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in question.

"I apologize for having heard all that."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. "Don't. She's always been a nosy bitch."

"She wouldn't have said those things if she hadn't seen me with you."

"It's inevitable," she said, waving a hand to dismiss him. She fiddled with her chopsticks as she averted her gaze, finally dropping them on the rim of her bowl. "Sorry if I'm a terrible hostess to you."

Kurama immediately waved her worrying off. "It's understandable."

She shook her head. "It's still terrible of me. I should be the one apologizing to you. Kitagawa's behavior was rude but that doesn't entitle me to being rude to you as well. I'm sorry."

He only looked at her as she bowed her head. Before he could say anything else, she looked up and resumed eating.

"You know what? Let's just not talk about it, okay?"

"If that's what you want."

"It is."

"All right, then."

Her chopsticks scraped against her bowl, and she stirred at the stock absently. They continued their dinner without much gusto, and when he moved to help her clean up, she didn't protest.

They then proceeded to the living room, and she took out several thin paperback manuals from the shelf across the television set. A kotatsu sat in the middle of the room, and she made herself comfortable, laying the manuals on the table for him to peruse.

"Since you're here, I might as well give you a crash course on molecular cell lab etiquette," she said by way of explanation as he opened the first manual. "I'll be reading these reports while you're at it. After we finish, I'm going to give you a quiz. In the next few days, I'll give you practicals. You can't mess up."

That went quick.

"Do you possess equipment for that?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I have my connections. I'll sneak you in somewhere, somehow."

He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised at how willing she was to do something as _unlawful_ as that. "Is that safe?"

"Yeah, I'm not stupid."

Kurama had plans on learning the basics as soon as he arrived home and didn't even ask her to do this, but as he was as knowledgeable in advanced laboratory dos and don'ts as Yusuke was, he might as well take the opportunity. He'd only done high school science experiments, and they were definitely insufficient to pass off as an experienced researcher. They silently began reading, the professor turning away from him as her eyes darted through the pages of the case files, palm pressed to her cheek.

The silence between the two of them was loaded with anticipation, and even as Kurama was a fast reader, he felt like going faster wouldn't help matters. It didn't even seem like Aoshi had any problem with the stretching silence, as for the few times he'd risked glancing at her, she hadn't looked up from her reading. He didn't _even_ feel her looking at him. And so he released a breath, waiting for her to open up when she was ready. For sure, she had a good reason for delaying _that_ exchange.

The professor finished the reports sooner than he did the manuals, and she proceeded to read the book Yamamoto had given her. She was already halfway through, and kept coming back to previous pages as though trying to figure out an unspoken puzzle.

"Is there something you need help with?" he finally offered, abandoning for a moment the third manual he'd read, one concentrated on biosafety cabinets and hoods.

Heavily-lidded eyes looked up at him. "I'll ask for help when I need it. Now, mind your own business."

Kurama _knew_ she had something else in mind.

After another hour, he'd finished the stack she'd given him. She still wore the same expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she silently quizzed over something she wasn't keen on sharing with him just yet.

"I'm done."

Aoshi huffed and reluctantly closed the book, taking the stack of manuals away from him and on the floor where he couldn't see them. She had probably wanted to make concrete her inner arguments before he could finish his task.

But she hadn't.

"Which do you use inside a biosafety cabinet? An alcohol lamp or a Bunsen burner?" she said without much ado.

"Neither, if one can avoid it. They disrupt the air flow and can damage the HEPA filters."

"How do you take a liquid specimen through a micropipette?"

"You set the amount through the adjustment knob and soft-press before pipetting out the liquid. You hard-press when you eject the liquid."

"I didn't ask for that last bit, Mr. Know-It-All."

He tilted his head, smiling at her.

"Let's do the lightning round. What does psi stand for?"

"Pound per square inch."

"What's the standard pressure for autoclaving?"

"Fifteen psi."

She was speaking faster now, throwing questions off the top of her head at him. "How diluted is your basic antiseptic alcohol?"

"Seventy percent."

"What kind of alcohol do you use?"

"Ethyl."

"What basic technique can be used to estimate bacterial population?"

"Serial dilutions and Miles and Misra."

"Biosafety level for _Mycobacterium tuberculosis_?"

He hesitated, wracking his memory. "Biosafety level 4…?"

To his surprise, the professor made a buzzing sound, one similar to that used in quiz shows when the contestant makes a mistake. "Wrong. BSL-3. BSL-4 is typically for viruses. What is the standard volume of media used for slants?"

The laughter caught at his throat as he hurriedly answered, "Eight milliliters."

Kurama wiped the smile off his face as she continued. "Stabs and deeps?"

"Ten."

"Petri plates?"

"Twenty."

"What does CFU stand for?"

"Colony…" he paused, massaging his chin.

"Three, two…"

"Colony…"

"Time's up. Colony forming units. I need one liter of nutrient agar. How many Erlenmeyer flasks am I going to use?"

"Two if you use one-liter flasks. Four if five-hundred-milliliter flasks."

"Why?"

"If you go beyond half the capacity of the flask, there might be a pressure build up while autoclaving, causing breakage of glassware."

They continued with the game until she could no longer think of anything to ask, sinking further into the futon beneath the kotatsu as she got bored.

"Okay, you pass. Not very impressive, but understandable. I'll have to be extra careful if I were you, though. You're going to bring those manuals home and I'm going to quiz you again tomorrow."

"I'm a fast learner," he said by way of reassuring her and himself, trying to salvage his pride at the jab it just took from the professor's jaded assessment.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, master, I can see that. There's no need to be too aware. But I'll be keeping an eye out for you. I just hope Urawa would be reasonable enough to assign me as your buddy for even just a week when we start."

Kurama nodded, pushing the stack of manuals away from him and taking Yamamoto's book from the table to inspect.

"What is it?" she asked, sitting straight.

"It's something I haven't mentioned to you, but for a book on demons, this doesn't give off any demonic aura," he said, flitting through the pages and running his fingers on them. He sniffed at the pages, and nothing but ink and aged paper registered. "It is quite intriguing."

"Maybe because it's nothing but a record of observations," she said, taking it from him without preamble and skipping to a certain page. "There's something else bothering me, though. It's said here that demons have souls, too. In fact, anything living should have a soul, save for those without any means of exhibiting higher thought. But in the report, it was stated that the half-demons didn't have any."

Kurama was thankful for the opening. "I've been meaning to ask about that, actually."

"You know I'm not the best choice to consult with when it comes to the supernatural? I can only provide scientific perspective on these things. And even if I do, I myself am not sure if science and the supernatural would mesh well together. Everything's new to me."

She was looking at him like he'd sprouted another head. "Of course. Raw insights are exactly what I desired to get from you."

"Oh… okay, then," she said, wriggling to make herself more comfortable on the floor. "This might sound like I'm getting way ahead of the matter, but I've been thinking since yesterday that there's something definitely unnatural with the creatures… as if they were synthetic."

"What exactly do you mean by _'synthetic'?"_

"Exactly as it is. Manufactured and… man-made, even," she said, scratching at her nose. "Think of it like an imitation of an original. There's bound to be some defects here and there, you know?"

Kurama's head spun at the possibility. "Are you trying to say that the half-demons weren't born from the copulation of a human and a demon?"

"Isn't it obvious? They came in hordes and lacked stuff here and there. Mass-produced and looking like hundreds of eggs coming from a single ovary churned out one time, big time. It's even stated in the report that all the creatures coming from the same batch were similar in physique and other attributes! Do you get what I mean?"

"I do, but there _are_ demons capable of giving multiple births. There are insect demons, after all," he said, trying to negate her to see if she could support her statements.

She paused, staring at him for a long time. "Insect demons having sex with humans?" she drawled out, cringing at the thought. "You're kidding me. Is that why you suppose the half-demons had bloated heads?"

Kurama shrugged. "It's possible. Haven't you come across insect demons in Yamamoto's book?"

"No, maybe he hasn't encountered any," she said quickly, dismissive. "Okay, so _maybe_ that's true. What about the four limbs? Insects have six."

"Humans have four."

She huffed. "The lack of souls? Care to explain that?"

"Are invertebrates supposed to have souls?"

"Anything capable of higher thinking should have a soul. From what philosophers had said, having a soul enables an individual to distinguish from right and wrong. Now you tell me, are invertebrates capable of having souls?"

Kurama smiled. "Mostly, no."

"Insects are invertebrates."

"But not all invertebrates lack a brain. From what I've gathered, insects have supraesophageal ganglions."

"Neural ganglions are not sufficient for higher thinking, Kurama."

"Insect demons are higher forms of the mere insect, Professor."

She opened her mouth as if to counter his argument and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Then let me rephrase. Insects _can_ have souls, at least insect demons _can_. Now, if we're following your theory of the insect demons and humans in a sexual relationship, then some parental characteristics should show in the offspring. If it's the enlarged head for the insect demons, then it must be pincers for the arthropod demons or something else entirely, but still characteristic of them."

"Don't you think you're oversimplifying things, Professor?"

Her lips drew to a smirk. "Ha! Caught you, Kurama! Earlier I asked why the creatures had four limbs and you said they could be attributed to the humans' genetic makeup. Stepped into your own trap, eh?"

Kurama couldn't help but smile at her triumphant attitude, even as he was practically throwing the clues right at her face. "All right, point taken. However, if we're going to go by the theory that it was insect demons and humans that produced such offspring, why then do you suppose do the half-demons not have souls?"

She placed both arms on the table, staring off at the wall for the better part of a minute. "Are you sure half-demons are only produced through the copulation of demons and humans?" she asked, looking at him through her peripheral vision.

"Yes," he said.

Her nostrils flared. "You're lying."

"I'm not." _I am. Try seeing through me, Professor._

She twisted and leaned towards him, searching his eyes. Kurama would have backed down if he hadn't anticipated the move to catch him off-guard. Her black irises roved his face, searching for the lie in his.

"Yup, definitely lying," she declared as she leaned back, taking the precious book and flipping furiously to a page. "I've read this book up and down, front and back last night. I wouldn't miss anything my senior had written."

She shoved the open book under his nose, and he took it, trying his best not to smile.

"Paragraph two through three."

She was so sure of herself Kurama was almost laughing again. Kurama turned to the said passage, reading the hardly-perceptible scrawls.

 _Most demons, as the humans that co-inhabit our world with other animals, are rational creatures. They are mostly higher forms of animal spirits such as the fox, cat, phoenix, or even a butterfly. They can have the capacity for higher thought that would normally require the faculties of a chordate with a functional nervous system. This way of nature does not necessarily ring true for this line of creatures as other forms that would typically lack a complete brain are able to think and be by virtue of their demonic attributes (and other factors I have yet to find out about),_ e.g. _insects and arthropods._

 _While this is true, reproductive capacity is in turn only available to those that attained humanoid forms displayed by a demon that reached a certain level of spiritual class or a certain age. A perfect example is a_ kitsune _that can assume both fox and humanoid forms. In humanoid form, a demon is generally endowed with four limbs and bipedalism, save for some peculiarities usually inherited from the demonic parent such as an extra pair of ears or wings._

"Now tell me how the heck advanced insect demons, when they can think and be rational, could have produced half-human progeny without souls. It all ties up, you know?"

" _You_ were lying to me."

"It's called economizing the truth. But we're digressing."

Kurama, even as he was amazed by this much information that the late Yamamoto was able to amass and by the way the professor could dismiss something she seemed to loath, continued his pretense. "What do you mean?"

Her hands found their way to her face as she groaned at him. "You've got to be shitting me."

"I'm not. Please enlighten me."

She bit her lip and rubbed at her eyebrow, clearly not picking up on his sarcasm. He couldn't fault her. She was an educator and a scientist through and through. Curiosity and the hunger for knowledge could seriously cost her.

"All right, padawan. Let's forget about the reproductive capacity and deal with rationality and the soul. Four things: one, higher forms of demons are capable of higher thought; two, creatures capable of higher thought are rational; three, rational creatures have a soul; and four, humans have souls. Therefore, anything descending from a line of humans and higher demons should have a soul. At least naturally."

Kurama feigned realization. "I see. Does this mean you're saying that higher thinking equals having a soul? But how are you sure that they aren't capable of higher thought just because they don't have a soul?"

"Are you trying to pull circular reasoning on me?"

He didn't answer her. "Does having a soul guarantee higher thought or does higher thought guarantee having a soul? If an animal has a soul, does that mean it is rational? A fox may have a soul, but is it capable of being rational as humans are?"

Her mouth opened and closed several times as she digested what he just said. When it seemed like she wouldn't be able to counter his argument, she snapped her fingers. "You can't prove the converse of a statement, Kurama."

"That," he said, nodding his head, "is how you prove a point."

"Oh yeah?" she said, scrunching her face to one that could rival one of Yusuke's funny faces. "You enjoy getting a rise out everyone, don't you?"

He laughed. "That's not the case. I was only hoping to see if you could support your theory with substantial evidence."

"Tough luck. I know my game."

"I can see that. So what did we establish?"

"That the half-demons weren't naturally born of copulation. Otherwise, their souls would've paraded towards the Reikai when you crushed them to bacon bits." She cringed, turning green in the gills at the memory. _"Eurgh."_

His smile widened. "How then do you suppose were they able to come to be?"

"Ah, that," she muttered, leaning on the table top once more. "I've been wondering how the laboratories play a part in all these."

Kurama waited for her to continue. He was fairly certain where she was driving this conversation.

"I said the half-demons seemed synthetic. Laboratories are the perfect venue for synthesis of unnatural products."

"Are you insinuating that scientists produced the half-demons?"

"I'm not saying it's the only possibility but it _is_ a possibility. I still think everything's too convenient, and that the people behind this deliberately made it obvious, but we shouldn't rule out something this evident. I can't shake the feeling that Yamamoto's death wasn't just another puzzle piece. It's as if his death was pivotal, you know? As if he had wanted me to know that he was important. If anything, his book suggests that there are more of the scientific community involved in this gigantic mess."

"I agree with you, but we can't be complacent with just one theory. By accepting this, are we one step ahead of them?"

"The fact that we can put these little things together means we are. The fact that we've managed to infiltrate means we are. It's like chess, you know?"

"Chess?" The professor was being random.

She nodded. "Do you play it?"

"Sometimes, albeit not quite enough to be an expert at it."

"Do you know zwischenzug?"

"I've heard of it."

"[ˈtsvɪʃənˌtsuːk] n. an in-between or intermediate move in the game of chess; an intermezzo: posing an immediate threat against one by the opponent before playing the move expected of you, thus gaining advantage of the game," she recited, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

His mouth twitched in amusement; it was the perfect word. "The threat is lying out in the open; they left G&P and Todai for us to deal with. The infiltration—is it the zwischenzug?"

"I like you. You're smart. It is, but we're not about to reveal that just yet. We'll first let them think that we're blindly chasing their pawns. They want us to do something about G&P and Todai. We'll prevent G&P from collapsing and I will go to Todai. But your being among us will be the zwischenzug. When they will have finally realized your presence and the opening has been made, we'll have to do what they expect."

Kurama tilted his head, smiling broadly her. "We'll meet them head-on."

o-o

Kurama withdrew his hand from the pot that held the _Sansevieria_ , letting her see as a small, pale shoot rose from the hole he'd dug, its equally pale leaves and dried cotyledons sparkling in life for one whole second before vanishing before her eyes.

"It's gone," said Chiaki, looking up at him unseeingly.

He shook his head. "It's not, you're just unable to see it."

"How did you do that?"

"I'm a plant master," he said with a small smile, proud of himself.

Chiaki wrinkled her nose at him and watched as he took out another seed, this one sickly white and as small as a japonica rice grain. He went for the kitchen counter and pressed a finger on the nook from where the counter was attached to the wall, slipping the seed into the space.

He paused, staring at the spot without doing anything, and Chiaki's eyes bugged out of their sockets as ten or so glowing vines shot from the nook, slithering against the kitchen walls, spreading out like wildfire. The shoots were quick to cover much area, in no time enveloping the room with their thinness almost imperceptible to the unknowing and small number of oddly-shaped leaves and campanulate buds.

Chiaki stood on tiptoe as she observed one particular flower dangling off the frame of the entryway. Soon, the glow off the plant dissipated as the buds opened to reveal the shadow of what looked like an… eye? The small eyes seemed to have a terrible case of cataract, the irises as clouded as the scleras, only a thin, faint line of grey demarcating their boundaries. She managed to hold back a screech as the eye blinked at her before the flower disappeared with the rest of the plant.

She looked about, trying to spot any traces of the plant, but her kitchen looked like it always did, innocent and typical.

Kurama was watching her, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "They're called Eyevines, native to the country of Gendar in the Makai. They function as security cameras and are now around your apartment, except for the bathroom."

"How do you use them?"

He tugged at something above his head, and the plant glowed back to life, a leaf in his hand. "By projecting some of my power into them, I can use a leaf even one coming from another plant in another place as a toggle and viewing screen."

He beckoned for her to come closer and offered the leaf to her that was surprisingly bigger and heavier, and upon closer inspection, she could see a set of white buttons in the adaxial face along with what looked like a joystick in the other. The screen suddenly blinked to life, and Chiaki's eyes widened at the sight of her and Kurama as though viewed from an angle behind them.

She automatically spun to see the flower directed at them, its eye unblinking from the post it occupied just above the sink.

"Wow," she said, turning back to the leaf. "Does this mean I can use it, too?"

"Yes. One toggle leaf is available in every room in this apartment. I'll show you the others later. You must know that I can use one of my own Eyevines to access the view in this apartment."

Chiaki narrowed her eyes. "No peeking while I'm showering?"

"There are no vines in the bathroom."

She stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed. "I promise."

"That's more like it. I trust you, you know."

Kurama's eyes glinted for a moment, but she must have only imagined it as he took the leaf from her hand and let it slide back to its perch below one of the cupboards above the counter. They moved to the other rooms, inspecting the Eyevines that had apparently taken root all over her home, making her keel dangerously over. Even as she was amazed by how advanced Kurama's plants were, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was something she should really be afraid of.

He showed her where she could reach the toggles, and after installing more defensive plants that would attack any demon and human with an unfamiliar aura who dared sneaking into her home, Kurama ventured out, hands loaded with his briefcase and another bag of manuals she'd assigned him to read.

"I'll see you in the morning at Urameshi's," she said. "Goodnight, Kurama."

The smile he gave her was tight-lipped. "Be safe. Goodnight, Professor."

"Yeah, you too."

* * *

A/N:

* _Sansevieria_ is a genus of plants commonly known as the bow string hemp, mother-in-law tongue, etc. They can also be called as just sansevieria.

* Biosafety cabinets are working cabinets in a laboratory. They are minimally similar to hoods you use in chemistry classes and are mostly used for tissue culture, microbiological experiments; in short, those requiring extremely sterile conditions to prevent contamination. HEPA filter means high-efficiency particulate air filter, and it is a staple in biosafety cabinets.

* Adaxial surface is the dorsal surface of a leaf, the one typically facing the sun and coated with cuticle.

* Supraesophageal (literally "above or on top of the esophagus") ganglions are aggregates of nerves homologous to brains but less developed. Typically they're found in higher forms of invertebrates, such as the crustaceans.

* _Mycobacterium tuberculosis_ is the microbe responsible for the respiratory disease, tuberculosis.

So... there. It's finally up, the chapter I've entitled using the story's title. I've been terribly busy this week and I hope this chapter didn't give you a headache. It was sort of roundabout and dialogue-heavy, but trust me, there are clues scattered about.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks to everyone who added this story to their faves and alerts and to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys rock!

Tell me what you think about this chapter, please? Thank you!

See you! :)


	10. III - Distrust

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part III

 _"When you disarm the people, you commence to offend them and show that you distrust them either through cowardice or lack of confidence, and both of these opinions generate hatred."_

\- Niccolo Machiavelli, _The Prince_

o-o

 _Distrust_

Kurama's eyes opened to the sight of his dark room, and he reached up to push the curtains away and let the mid-summer sunlight stream in. He sat up, blinking at the light, shirt slightly doused in sweat. It was exceptionally humid this morning, and he hadn't the mind to turn the air conditioner on before he fell asleep while reading the manuals Aoshi had lent to him.

One of the said manuals was lying face down on the floor, its pages touching the wood, and Kurama rose from his bed, stretching his arms, letting a yawn escape him. He picked up the manual and smoothened out—to his horror—the crinkled pages before gingerly placing it atop the stack on his table, and made his way to make his bed.

He would have to apologize to the professor for the damage later. Hopefully, she wouldn't strangle him.

It was eight in the morning, he read from the alarm clock through his eyes encrusted with the remnants of sleep. Kurama was to meet the professor in two hours at the diner.

With breakfast in front of him, Kurama used the time to use his Eyevines as he sat alone at the dining table. A single toggle leaf was held by his left hand while the other wielded the chopsticks he used to feed himself.

The professor's apartment flickered to view, a dark, empty hallway seen from the Eyevine flower he'd placed by the front door. Kurama tapped at another button, and the view switched to the living room. The curtains were drawn so that little light touched the interior, and if it weren't for his enhanced senses, Kurama would have been mortified not to validate if anything was amiss. Finding nothing remotely suspicious, he switched to the flower across from Aoshi's bedroom door.

The chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth, and he put his meal aside as he toggled the view to zoom in on a blue note stuck on the wooden door:

 _Rendezvous at 11 A.M., Kabukicho 3-chome 5-ban-7-go. I'll be waiting outside. You don't have to wear your disguise. Bring a change of clothes, toothbrush, and the essentials. We're pulling an all-nighter._

 _\- Aoshi_

…was all that it said in the professor's familiar flowing handwriting.

Kurama racked his memory. _Kabukicho?_ It wasn't the safest place in Tokyo, with its being a red-light district. Just the other day, another riot between drunks and the police was aired in the late night news. Why did she want to meet him in such a place?

 _What is she honestly thinking?_

Kurama was almost convinced that this was a ruse, that the professor had gotten herself into some trouble. For one nervous moment, he was ready to run to her rescue, but he remembered his defensive plants. None of them had been activated, and the apartment looked the kind of empty when someone had headed out for the day. Neat with nothing amiss.

He would have taken this singular act of authority over him as suspicious if not for the fact that he hadn't given her any other way of contacting him. A guilty tingle crept on his stomach as he realized the repercussions of an overlook as such, and the lengths she had to go through to let him know.

But she was clever—or rightfully aware and suspicious—enough to think that he would utilize the Eyevines. He would give her that.

Two hours later, Kurama had made another transfer, and he was two stations away from the odd venue Aoshi had chosen. A duffel bag was slung on his shoulder, something that he hadn't carried around in a long while. Adult human life meant suits and briefcases, not sneakers and a blue polo shirt over jeans.

When he finally got off the nearest station with only a few other people who dared or _had_ to go to this part of town, he started his twenty-minute walk. The neighborhood wasn't exactly unfamiliar—he'd been here with Yusuke and the others during a mission some years ago, the air about it still the same as before.

The buildings seemed harmless in the daylight, with none too many people scattered in the streets. Even in the day, he could see a few drinking through the glass windows of pubs, and in one particular corner, a man in a suit was sprawled on the ground, snoring and apparently robbed off of his other belongings. Kurama bypassed the street.

It would soon get rowdy in the afternoon, and even though Kurama would be able to handle himself, he couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be in such a place.

He passed by two more blocks lined with love hotels and pubs, and when he ended up turning to a particularly dark alley that would lead him to the block Aoshi had indicated, he thought better than to make another detour, lest he wanted to be late.

When he burst into another street that was undeniably less sketchy, he found the professor with the eternal bun leaning on the stone fence, smoking and bored, unmindful of the few people walking down the stone path and shooting her flippant glances.

She lifted her sunglasses off her eyes as he walked towards her. Her eyes looked puffy and droopy, and Kurama wondered if she had slept at all.

"Glad you made it just fine," she said without taking the cigarette off her lips.

Kurama tilted his head at her. "I'm more relieved that _you_ did."

"Idiot, I know this place fairly well," she said, pushing the metal gate that led to an old and gray two-story building. Despite the building's eerie front, the small lawn seemed to be well-maintained.

Aoshi's motorbike was resting on the fence, repaired and the dented license plate already replaced. He took another look at the professor who was now sliding open the front door of the building that reminded Kurama of a grocer's. She was wearing a sleeveless top, her boots rapping against the stone path.

"Did your attire and motorbike help?" he asked, following her inside and closing the door behind him, locking it for good measure.

"You can say that. The place isn't very safe, but if I blended in, they shouldn't know I'm from someplace else."

Kurama bit his lip. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You could take care of yourself."

"I mean, why didn't you tell me that you could be in danger?"

"I promised I'll sneak you in somewhere, somehow. This is the perfect place, but I can't risk you coming with me without anyone knowing. I had to make sure it was safe for me to bring someone else before I could tell you."

She opened another door not a yard away from the genkan, and Kurama was greeted with cold air and a plethora of foreign smells. His nose started itching, and without meaning to, he sneezed.

Aoshi flicked the lights on, and Kurama opened his eyes to a large, white room brimming with laboratory equipment he had and hadn't handled his entire life.

And that was saying something.

"What is this place?" he asked Aoshi who was rummaging through a cabinet by a wall.

"Yamamoto's lair. He used to conduct private experiments here when he couldn't at Stella-Bio," she said, extracting two laboratory gowns. She tossed the larger one to him, and she beckoned for his duffel bag, which he handed to her absently as he surveyed the entirety of the room.

Two workbenches complete with fume hoods occupied the center of the room, the overhead fluorescent lights providing a stark contrast to the building's outward appearance. One wall was lined with three deep sinks, and several shelves were mounted on the opposite wall. Every single space was almost loaded with a different array of instruments and bottles of reagents, except for one workbench that seemed to have been cleared only recently. He headed to another door, and Aoshi spoke before he could close his fingers on the handle.

"Don't get too excited, you're forgetting something important."

He twisted to see her waving for him to stand next to her on the sink. "How did you get in here?"

Aoshi put on her gown. Kurama copied her. "I was his apprentice. He used to bring me here all the time when he needed another pair of hands and an extended thread of patience. He's an obsessive freak, but he trusted me."

A small smile crept up her features as she said this, and Kurama was dimly reminded of Yusuke and Genkai. Master and student. Teacher and apprentice.

It looked like Aoshi had so much more to do with this case than they had initially thought.

"No one knows about this place aside from Yamamoto and me," she said, rolling the sleeves of her gown to her elbows. She turned to him. "And now, there's you. Don't tell anyone, do you understand, my dear student?"

Kurama smiled at her attempt at sounding as though she had complete reign over him. "Yes, Professor."

"Good," she said, dipping her hand in the pocket of her coat and handing to him a hair elastic. "First things first. Get your hair out of the way."

Kurama took the hair elastic and moved to tie his hair in a ponytail. "And then?"

"Antisepsis." She moved closer to the sink and he rolled his sleeves the way she did, turning on the tap. "Get some liquid soap and copy me."

He did as she wished, and Kurama wasn't able to pry anymore as he'd wanted to. Aoshi seemed to slip in the void of being part of the academic and scientific community in that instant, like the lecturer that he'd heard a day prior.

She would open up to him when she had to.

No, _if_ she had to.

o-o

"Dammit, Kurama! That's the fourth plate!" said Chiaki, baffled at how the demon could seriously suck at this. He'd put too much pressure on the agar again, and now there were several craters on the gel.

She had prepared fifty agar plates when she had managed to clean the place this morning, but even with that sheer number earmarked for later use, she was growing impatient.

The redhead hung his head in defeat. "I'm sorry. This is all new to me."

Chiaki released a steadying breath, gnawing at her lip. "Well, I'm not giving up on you. Do it again."

He took another Petri plate with solid nutrient agar from the middle of the workbench. He took the inoculating loop and held it against the blue flame of the Bunsen burner before taking the tube with the yellowish nutrient broth from the rack. Swiftly, he clinched the cotton plug between his little and ring fingers, running the mouth along the flame before taking an inoculum of the bacterial culture. He heated the test tube's mouth once more before replacing the cotton plug and putting it away.

"Go on, you can do it."

Kurama took the Petri plate and held it with his left hand, heating the other side away from his hand and lifting the cover with his thumb and forefinger, the others supporting the base. The end of the inoculating loop made contact with one point on the agar near the edge of the plate, and Kurama dragged the inoculum across the Petri plate in a zigzag motion. Successfully.

Chiaki clapped her hands at this, slightly jumping out of sheer satisfaction. "Finally!"

Before Kurama could express his relief in some form, a sharp, beeping sound alerted her that the sterilization process had finished, and she yanked Kurama by the sleeve to come with her. They walked to the white autoclave in the other end of the room, and she pointed at the digital display.

"What you heard meant the cycle is complete. See the temperature? It's going down. Same with the pressure," she said, pointing to the chamber pressure meter by a set of control buttons. The white needle was still moving slowly. "We'll have to wait for the temperature to fall below a hundred degrees Celsius and for the pressure to be zero before we open the door."

"How long does that usually take?"

"Depends on the machine. This baby takes five minutes. Some models have automated locks that wouldn't let you turn the door wheel until the jacket reaches a certain temperature or pressure. It's the kind found in the IMCB."

Kurama nodded in understanding. "Are we going to wait it out?"

Chiaki turned to the wall clock. "No, you're going to do nine more plates. For all we know, that streak plating you did could only be beginner's luck. I'll be heading out since it's way past lunchtime and you're probably hungry. What would you like to eat?"

He gave it a moment of thought. "Anything should be fine."

"Are you sure?" She'd put him under stress too early into the day, and even delayed his lunch. Surely he would want something specific.

"Yes, Professor."

Well, she wasn't one to argue. "Okay, then. Don't open the autoclave until I come back. And don't touch anything except for what you're currently handling. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She left him on the workbench as he lifted another Petri plate to inoculate on. The moment she stepped out of the laboratory, she felt clammy from the stifling heat outside. The rows of buildings didn't help. Even with the added shade, the trapped heat sent her sweat glands to Partyland. Not to mention the sun that was beating down on the path, making her eyes hurt without her sunglasses.

She brought her bike with her, happy enough with the momentary relief it had with the wind blowing past her, her helmet done away with in the meantime. She drove to the nearest restaurant she and Yamamoto used to get food from at odd hours when they had the conscious effort to look up from their work and realize that it had been way past their mealtime.

"It's you again," said the short, gangly cook, smiling crookedly at her as she entered the dim-lit restaurant. "Where's your teacher?"

Chiaki was surprised he didn't hear the news. Maybe he did and was only pretending for old time's sake. "He's gone elsewhere to never come back."

"I see," said the cook after a pause during which she managed to sit herself on the counter. He didn't sound or look like he understood her. Must be his pretense. "What are you getting today?"

"The usual. For two, please."

The cook raised his eyebrows at her. "You're with someone? Is it a student?"

He had no idea. "Yes, you can say that."

"Ah, as fitting. Give me ten minutes, lady."

Chiaki sat silently, surveying the establishment. It was just as she remembered a month ago, the last time she'd sat with the old professor on this counter, eating. A few tables were occupied by people who were different degrees of drunk and sober. She'd been a wreck of nerves the first time Yamamoto had brought her here, but since then she'd realized a person's violent streak can only go so far when served with good food.

Indeed, it was one of the safer places in this district. Too bad they closed early into the night to stay out of trouble.

That said… "Sir, could you double my order?"

"Staying the night again?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling a bit. _Like old times._

 _Wow, Chiaki, you're getting really soppy._

With one bag of hot meal on each arm, Chiaki exited the restaurant. It was already proving to be a better day than she'd expected, until her eyes landed on her bike.

She'd seen bikes and trucks get vandalized on and broken into pieces by some drunks and stoned thugs in these streets before, but even with her bike whole, the person straddling it felt worse than any damage it could concur.

"Yo, Chiaki, fancy seeing you here," said Urawa, grinning up at her.

Even with the beads of sweat stuck on his eyebrows, he looked amazing.

 _Quit that_ , she thought. _He's a sweating schmuck and sweat on your bike isn't attractive._

She strode to her bike and pushed him off of it. "What do you think you're doing?" she snarled at him. And more importantly, why was he here?

"I was wandering around town and I saw your bike. How can I forget how it looks like?"

Even when she found it suspicious, she wasn't surprised he'd be in such a place at this hour. He was the biggest prick of all time, after all.

"You're not allowed to be near it, not even three feet from it. To hell with you," she said, slinging the bags of food on the handlebars as she got on the bike, revving it.

A hand settled on the headlight and Chiaki glared up at the towering man in front of her.

"Didn't I tell you—"

"Why are you here, Chiaki? Don't tell me you're checked in somewhere with someone."

She silently thanked him for providing the excuse she wasn't ready to give. "What if I tell you that I am?" she said.

Urawa scoffed, chortling obnoxiously at her. "You're kidding me. With whom? That Matsuda?"

"So what if I'm with him?" she said, growling, playing along like she was offended.

He was smirking, unamused. She knew him too well, and even if he looked like he was jealous or something else entirely ludicrous, she wasn't going to fall for it. He was a bastard, point blank.

"You came here to celebrate your re-employment with him."

It wasn't a question. "Yeah, I did. So let me be in my merry way. Your girlfriend should be waiting for you, too."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Bullshit," she said through gritted teeth. "Did you hear that? My ass just said you're loaded with bull."

"I can see that you're still very eloquent."

Overwhelmed with the urge to harm him, she inched the bike forward, taking him aback so that he stumbled slightly and let go of her headlight.

"Cut the sentimental crap. My boyfriend's starving."

He straightened up and put his hands in his pockets, stepping to the side. Chiaki turned the handlebars, not giving him a second glance as she sped away.

But she couldn't help it. She looked at him through the side mirror. He was standing still, watching her as she put more distance between the two of them.

Even after two years, she was still unable to increase that distance.

 _Screw you, Urawa._

o-o

"Professor?"

Aoshi was slightly startled from her frozen stance in front of the polymerase chain reaction machine, the PCR tube she was holding almost slipping from her grip as she absently stared off into space, waiting for the demonstration cycle to finish.

"Yeah?" she said, blinking up at him and taking the ice bucket he was holding.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Since she'd come back from purchasing their food, the professor adopted a stoic mood. He was expecting her to yell at him for wasting another five plates before he met his quota for the streak plating exercise, but she only ordered him to fix the meal in the kitchenette opposite the laboratory while she put away the now useless culture medium plates.

Even when they were having their lunch, she was awfully quiet.

"Nothing," she quickly lied, the machine cutting further talk as it beeped, signaling the completion of the reaction. She deftly opened the cover and took the PCR tubes from the machine, shooting them to the ice bucket. "We're going to run these in the gel later after you finish with yours."

"All right," he said, taking the other ice bucket she had used to store the reagents and enzymes. "Shall I begin?"

"Yeah, I'll be in the other room if you need me. Don't blow up anything."

She didn't wait for him to answer, lumbering away, and Kurama took the micropipette from the rack.

It had been five hours since they'd begun working on his practical skills, and even though he enjoyed this new atmosphere and knowledge, he was suddenly overwhelmed with regret. That he settled for less.

Yusuke and Kuwabara were happy with their lives, and even though it was difficult to see Hiei's satisfaction with his, he knew it was there.

Kurama's hands moved quickly as he transferred liquid after liquid. It almost felt easy, something he could do in a while. Like he did in high school. Quick, passing, temporary.

Like what he was doing with his entire human life, actually.

He sighed. The quiet and cold in the laboratory made him lethargic even as he was fully into what he was currently doing.

Yusuke was with Keiko, and Kuwabara had always adored Yukina, planning to marry her when she finally accepted his feelings. Yusuke's reservations in settling down, being aware of the consequences of his demonic ancestry, and Kuwabara's simplistic view of the future, a typical life to a grown Japanese man, made him think of his own.

Among the four of them, Kuwabara could be considered as the most accomplished, at least human standard-wise. He graduated from college with a degree in engineering and was now the owner of a private contractor firm.

Kurama somehow managed to graduate from high school and get into his father's company, while Yusuke ran the Yukimura diner jointly with Keiko who was now a middle school teacher. Hiei was still on border patrol, occasionally dropping by whenever he liked or when he was needed.

After everything they'd gone through during the first years of their friendship, one would think they were all doing well, but truthfully, it was only Kuwabara who was able to reach his dreams and secure a decent status in the realm he had chosen to live in.

Not that Kurama minded; he was perfectly satisfied with how things had turned out for the four of them. But the satisfaction that came with persistence and unwavering dedication? It was only Kuwabara who truly achieved that. Until now, the other three of them were floating about, just going with the flow without much of a struggle, without direction.

Kurama inserted the tubes into the holder, locking the cover of the machine and setting the cycle.

He had undergone many infiltrations to the call of duty in the past years, and most of them had provided him options. He was once a teacher, a business tycoon, a police officer. But he was never exactly someone he could be and wanted to be.

Deciding to settle on a sedentary human life without any concrete plan for the rest of it, he felt lost most of the time.

He sighed. Again.

"Oi, Kurama, give me a hand in here," Aoshi's voice echoed from his left, her head momentarily sticking out of the door before disappearing behind it.

"What is it, Professor?" he asked, walking up to her and through the door.

She was crouched on a cabinet next to the biosafety cabinet in the room, jiggling a rusted lock that she'd managed to get the key stuck through. "Blasted lock. Yamamoto used to keep some of his notes in here."

"What do you need them for?"

She shrugged. "Possible evidence, clues, answers… Might as well get hold of everything that can help while I'm here."

 _Fair enough_. The professor was more invested in this than he had given her credit for. Crouching beside her, he took the key and examined the damage. It was no use, the key didn't even move from his quick tug.

"It's definitely stuck. We can break either the lock or the door."

"The lock would do."

"All right," he said, taking off the rubber glove from his right hand before reaching for a seed in his hair.

"A pea?" said Aoshi, disbelieving.

Kurama didn't answer her as he released a small amount of energy for the seed to germinate and produce one of his most valuable plants. It grew to no longer than three inches, leaves minute and pea-green, and a single flower bloomed, its yellow teeth bared.

Aoshi gasped, eyes widening at this new plant. "What the heck is that?"

She never failed to ask. "Pea Pruner."

To his surprise, she snorted and started laughing. "A plant for pruning?" she said, incredulous.

The plant twisted in his palm without his bidding, the flower baring its teeth and wide mouth at her so that she keeled over and landed on her backside on the cold, tiled floor.

Kurama was the one laughing now. "It seems you've offended it, Professor."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe it just snarled at me. Silently."

"You can't underestimate the power of plants," Kurama said, turning to the lock. He let the flower sink its teeth on the shank, effectively cutting the metal ring in half, the lock's pieces falling to the floor with two low clinks. He turned to Aoshi who hadn't moved from her position. "I've used this plant for several hundreds of years. It never failed me."

He let it shrink back to its seed form and tucked it in his hair once more.

Of course, the professor had to voice out her observation. "You're some hundreds of years old?"

"Around three thousand years, to be precise."

Her jaw fell open. "What? Are you for real?"

"Yes," he said, opening the cabinet. Stacks of notebooks were stashed inside, and Aoshi let herself be distracted from marveling at his longevity as she surveyed the contents.

"I can't believe I'm speaking to someone your age. Yamamoto was only forty-eight and I could hardly tolerate him," she said, taking out one notebook after another, flitting through the pages.

"You can think of a three-thousand-year-old demon as a human in their mid-twenties," he offered.

She looked up at him. "At least in physique? Like you?"

"Maybe."

"Well, that makes it simpler to think about. But you haven't told me your real name."

"It's Kurama."

Her knitted eyebrows made her look more upset than curious. "You're bluffing."

"No, it is. My human name is Minamino Shuichi."

"Two identities, then? Did you possess Minamino?"

Kurama decided to copy her, sitting himself on the floor as his muscles had grown tired from his crouch. Perhaps it was time that he shared something else to prove that he trusted her. In turn, she might open up to him soon.

"You can't say it's a possession. It's more like merging with the fetus before it acquired a soul."

"What?"

"To put it simply, I escaped from the Makai in my spiritual body years ago after a bounty hunter almost killed me. My human mother was pregnant by then, and I found the vessel I needed to heal from my injuries."

Aoshi turned away, blinking as she considered his statement. "That's an odd way of putting it… Why would they want you killed?"

"I was a thief, renowned and feared. A big sum had been put up for my head."

Even as she cringed at either the thought of his thieving or the grievousness of his actions, she didn't fail to piece the details she'd only learned a few days ago.

"You were really Youko Kurama." It wasn't a question.

"Exactly."

She looked like she was about to say something else but another beeping sound came from the main room, and they rose to their feet, the professor stashing the notebooks inside and closing the cabinet doors.

"Let's run that electrophoresis. We have a lot to cover today."

"I'm ready."

Aoshi shook her head, not even bothering to make fun of his projected confidence. He followed her outside, and Kurama hadn't braced himself for when she suddenly stopped in her tracks and whirled to face him, scowling.

"I just came to a conclusion, you little shit," she said all of a sudden, face sour, teeth gritted.

Kurama took a step back, genuinely confused. "What—"

She advanced towards him, flailing her arms about. "You little ass you had to make it harder for me to understand why the creatures had no souls you should've told me sooner that you possessed a fetus without a soul YOU KNEW ALL ALONG THAT AN UNDERDEVELOPED BRAIN WOULDN'T ALLOW FOR HIGHER THOUGHT AND HAVING A SOUL WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TALK SHIT TO ME WHILE I WORRIED MYSELF BALD BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO PLAY GAMES DO YOU KNOW HOW FREAKING DIFFICULT THAT WAS?"

He had backed down to a wall, and the professor looked livid, her nostrils flaring as she paused from the longest tirade he'd heard in a long time. "Look, Professor, I was merely—"

"SHITTING WITH ME, THAT'S WHAT!" she yelled, twisting around to lean on the workbench, crossing her arms as she glared at him, stomping her feet in frustrated vengeance. "Dammit, Kurama!"

Kurama was thankful she didn't act on her anger. He hadn't a clue how he would stop her from doing anything that could result to physical harm. He kept his eyes trained on her, letting her see that he hadn't done that without reason.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Professor," he said slowly, nodding his head in apology, "but I wanted to hear raw inferences from someone who doesn't know about me. Our enemies are most likely unaware just as you are. I had to make sure someone of your qualities could infer as much even without glaring proof. But trust me, I honestly didn't know how creatures, as developed as the half-demons, could lack souls. That's why I needed to hear from you."

She didn't say anything for a while, breathing deeply, deliberately, and Kurama didn't dare look up until she accepted his explanation.

A heavy sigh shattered the silence only punctuated by the drone of the machines inside the room, and she was saying, "Right, okay. I think I'm calm and I think I understand. I'm sorry if I lashed out on you without hearing you out."

"No, it's my fault." He was glad that she recognized her mistake, but it had always been a bad habit of his to skirt around topics he'd rather have his way with. Yusuke and Kuwabara thought it was extremely insensitive of him, even if it reflected his natural tendencies as a kitsune—a prankster.

"I'm partly to blame."

He let his head rise a few inches and saw that she was bowing to him as well, making him feel more confused. One moment, she looked like she could castrate him, and the next, she was as calm as the wind.

He was unable to comprehend her.

They both straightened and stared at each other before she jerked her head to the PCR machine.

"Get the tubes out. We'll do the gel in a jiff," she said, turning on her heels to prepare the necessary equipment as if nothing had happened.

With another burden off his shoulders, Kurama proceeded to retrieve the tubes. The two of them worked quietly as she demonstrated the use of the electrophoresis setup, and when the results came in, he was devastated.

His DNA bands turned out heavier, while hers, as expected, were accurate replicons of the _lacZ_ gene of _Escherichia coli._

While he puzzled on the reason why this could happen when he had followed everything she told him to do, Aoshi burst out laughing.

He turned to her. "Oh, I know why that is," she said, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her gown as she dissolved into a hysterical fit of giggles.

Kurama paused to think of the possible source of this error and her amusement.

Aoshi was clapping her hands as she doubled over in laughter, stomping her feet. "Oh my god, I really got you!"

Then Kurama drew a sharp breath, allowing his mouth to fall open. She stalled him before he could take out the tubes!

"Ice, ice baby!" Aoshi started singing, confirming his thoughts, still cheering herself on for the brilliance of her exacted revenge. "An eye for an eye, Kurama! Now, do it all over again and run the gel while you're at it!"

She continued cackling, smirking at him as she disappeared behind the room containing Yamamoto's notebooks.

Indeed, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

o-o

One more can of coffee and she was going to be a quivering mess. Her blood ran cold, head throbbing from the caffeine as she examined the notebooks in front of her. There were about a hundred, and she hadn't gone through a quarter of them.

This was probably being disrespectful to her late mentor, but somehow she felt she was rightfully responsible with what he had left her in this place they'd shared for so long a time.

Her chest tightened as she read another passage:

 _Chiaki made a breakthrough. She has devised a new protocol to extract RNA. By accident. Serendipity runs in the scientific community, it seems. We're going to publish this. Below is the rough account of what happened._

 _For reference and information._

Each notebook contained a passage or two about her and her escapades in this private sanctuary, some about her greatest mistakes, some about her discoveries. It was the same pattern, and it became clear to her that Yamamoto had only lived a life separate from the outside world, only associating with people who had the same drive that he did.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was probably the only family he had in all those years of knowing him.

She looked up from her reading and fixed her eyes on the sole picture frame on his table.

In the dim light only punctured by the lamp, she could very well see the two of them in the picture, smiling as they held their plaques of recognition.

It was the first time she'd ever been inside his study, as Yamamoto was adamant that she couldn't be in here when he was alive, insisting that she could do her paperwork in the separate room Kurama was currently occupying.

It wasn't entitlement that made her take up this room on her own while passing down her old room to the demon. She felt like she had to guard it, that she and Yamamoto were the only ones privy to the secrets of this room.

The first time she saw the picture, she wept silently, almost jeopardizing the effects of the coffee she had downed when she and Kurama had said goodnight.

Thinking about it now, right as the clock read three in the morning, she realized just how much she missed the capricious, obsessive, and sometimes caring Yamamoto. He was the closest to a father that she had when she needed one, and she was probably the closest figure to a daughter when he had none.

She allowed herself to feel lonely and to mourn; she hadn't given his death proper thought. The recent occurrences had rendered her unable to, but it looked like only in this place would she feel more deeply his permanent absence.

She missed the guy, even as he was as disagreeable as she was. Half the time she couldn't fault him. It was the way he dealt with his passion—explosive and fiery.

She had learned things from him. He'd made her feel more satisfied with the career she had chosen, and even when not everyone would understand the beauty of being secluded in a laboratory with nothing else but a whole array of minute organisms, molecules, and other things to be dealt with, she was very happy.

She was making a difference. She was always learning, she was always bettering.

Yamamoto had been oftentimes harsh, but he was the perfect mentor that any student could ask for. That she could ask for.

Deciding to take a breather before she could be a weeping mess, she went inside the cooling chamber, checking for the culture she and Yamamoto had prepared a month ago. She would be letting Kurama use them in the next few days, and she opened the refrigerator to examine for fungal growth and possible death.

She was probably making a lot of noise with the glassware and as she transferred the microbes to fresh culture media, for when a door squeaked, disturbing the silence as it opened and she turned to take a look, Kurama was standing in a crisp white shirt and sweatpants, almost out of his room, his hair sticking up at even odder angles than it normally did.

"Why are you still up, Professor?" he asked, voice thick with interrupted sleep. His eyes were slightly squinted as he moved to get inside.

"Don't move, Kurama. You're not in a gown," she said before he could get a single step in the laboratory proper. "Was I too loud? I'm sorry I woke you."

He shook his head. "You weren't. The smell of bacterial metabolites woke me."

Of course _that_ would wake anybody. "Is it that bad?" she said, tugging the mask from her nose to see—or smell—for herself.

There was the slight malodorous mix of old media and bacteria reminiscent of sewage, but she didn't find it gag-worthy. Maybe it was experience talking.

"Sensitive sense of smell," he said, tapping at the bridge of his nose. "Are you not going to bed? You still have lectures in the morning—I mean, later."

Chiaki inoculated another tube with _Staphylococcus aureus_ after pushing the mask back on her mouth and nose _._ "I'm preparing new cultures and leaving the old ones for you to use in the exercises I have for you later."

Kurama nodded in understanding. "I see." Then, as if remember something, he started. "Ah, Professor, I have to let you know that I have a family dinner scheduled this evening."

"Then you can finish what you can today and clean up before you go," she said, making another transfer. "I'll be coming back after my last period to check for damages you'll have to pay for."

His lips twitched. "I'm not going to break anything."

Chiaki shrugged. "Whatever. Go back to sleep."

"You should sleep, too. Otherwise, Honda will make fun of you."

She smothered a laugh with a cough. "Although that was a perfect rhyme, I'd know better than to prove your point. I'll always have the last word with imbeciles disguised as students."

"Have you prepared a farewell speech?"

She smirked despite the mask. "No, I'm planning to leave them with a heavy reading assignment in anticipation for a graded recitation. They'll flip me when Tuesday comes and you come in as the new teacher."

"Are you always this nasty to students?"

"I'd like to think it's not the case," she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Hey, you keep on stalling me. Go back to sleep."

He didn't move from the doorframe he'd leant on for the past five minutes that they had been talking. "Professor, I have a question."

"After which you're going back to bed?"

"Yes."

Chiaki crossed her arms as she rid herself of the equipment. She walked back to the chamber after giving him an, "I'll be quick" sign, and replaced the old culture in the fridge before she walked to the adjacent incinerating and incubation chamber to place the new culture in the incubator.

She had ridden herself of her gloves and mask when she went back to lean on the workbench across his door.

"Shoot."

He didn't dally. "Did you encounter someone earlier when you went outside?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly nervous. Was she obviously upset? Did she have Urawa's scent on her? Was he really this sensitive?

Lying wouldn't get her anywhere. "I did."

"Who?"

"Urawa Isamu."

He looked wary. "I thought only three people knew about this place. Does he usually go here?"

Chiaki didn't understand where he was coming from. "I met him at the restaurant. He doesn't know about this lab. And I don't really care if he goes here. He'd known better than to come bugging me or Yamamoto."

"Is that why he followed you all the way here?" Kurama said, unconvinced with her flippant attitude.

"You're being silly. He didn't come to Kabukicho for me, and he doesn't know where I could be. I lied to him when he asked."

He was the picture of a saint. "And what did you tell him?"

"That I've checked in somewhere with someone."

"Excuse me?" he asked, surprised.

She suddenly found the button of the gown she wore very interesting. "Well…" she said, suddenly embarrassed, "he asked me if I was and I said I am, and he asked if it was with Matsuda and I said yes."

Kurama's eyes widened for the first time, before he hid his face in one hand. "Why did you tell him that, Professor?" he asked, voice muffled but the exasperation clearly heard.

"I had to play along! I was more surprised to see him here than I was angry that he was casually sitting on my bike!" Chiaki said in defense of her actions.

He looked at her between his fingers. "Please don't tell me he now thinks we're a couple."

Chiaki was suddenly uncomfortable, the heat rising up her cheeks. An incomprehensible sound—squeak, squeal, squawk—escaped her throat as she was unable to think of a less harmful response, her thoughts shrouded with the repercussions of what she just did.

She should've lied.

He didn't let her say anything else. "So he does."

Chiaki was hurrying to control the damage. "Look, I just said that to get him off my back. He's obnoxious but he'd know that I was lying."

"That makes it all the more complicated, Professor. If he knew you were lying, then he'd be suspicious of why you would be here when you could be anywhere."

 _Oh. I have seriously screwed this up, haven't I?_

"We might as well follow through with it, then," he said rubbing his temple with the palm of his hand. "I should've known he would hear of it sooner."

Even as Chiaki had wanted to lament the fact that she'd been careless, she didn't fail to pick up on the hidden meaning of his statement.

"What do you mean?"

Kurama looked at her, releasing a breath. "He's more involved with you than you think, Professor."

Chiaki's nostrils flared. "What are you talking about?" she said, even if she knew.

"He's an old flame, isn't he?"

Her mouth fell open and her teeth grazed her lip as she shut it quickly. "How did you know?"

He was shaking his head. "Believe me, I've seen a fair share of men in love. And now that I've had my suspicions cleared, I think you should heed some warning."

"A warning?"

"Don't trust anybody with what we know, Professor. Not even him. You know him more than us and more than we know him, but believe me when I say that it wouldn't be wise to do so."

He was deathly serious, but Chiaki wasn't the least happy with what he had just insinuated. Her whole body trembled in pent-up rage, and perhaps it was the lack of release from the stress and the things Urawa had made her feel in two consecutive days that she finally snapped.

"Excuse me?" she said, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "Do you honestly think that I'm going to sell you out just because of an ex? What do you think of me? Lovesick and a hopeless romantic? That man is the biggest douche in the entire cosmos and I will never make the same mistake of trusting him again! Hearing from him the shittiest lie I'd heard my entire life the first time was enough!"

She crossed her arms, breathing rapidly.

"You men are all the same. You're all full of yourselves. Do you honestly think women would bend their backs for you? You make me sick."

She was suddenly stalking away from the redhead who'd made a move to reach her. She had bolted to close the door to Yamamoto's study before he could cover the distance between the two of them. Her hands desperately clutched at the door handle, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from collapsing on a heap on the cold floor.

She hadn't planned to say that, but she did anyway.

Now he knew more than he should have.

She should've known this would happen. Who was she kidding?

o-o

Kurama decided to stay rooted by the door even before she could reach her room. He had instinctively reached out, but the damage had been done.

He had to follow through with it, to ascertain that she wouldn't betray them for anyone involved in this mess. Urawa was incredibly suspicious and Kurama couldn't help but feel that he would milk information from her if he had the chance.

Urawa was an ex-lover. As narrow-minded as thinking it, Kurama was fairly certain he had a certain effect on the professor. He'd seen it twice already, and he wasn't going to let it pass. Right now everyone in Todai was a suspect, and he couldn't afford to have the professor falter in their progress because Urawa desired to distract her.

Aoshi could deny it, but he knew there was something there. If there wasn't, she wouldn't have jumped for Urawa's bait and humored his suggestive statements.

He had to get rid of it. He had to draw the line. It wasn't a very good opening, but it was one nonetheless.

Somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done it partly out of vengeance for her senselessly involving him with her—even if only to get Urawa off her back.

He didn't know what time he'd fallen asleep again, he didn't even remember going back to the bed with its freshly-laundered sheets. But when he woke to the sound of feet shuffling outside, in the laboratory, he didn't move.

The lily-of-the-valley shampoo was apparent. It was only the professor.

She had probably stayed in there for twenty minutes more or less, for when Kurama opened his eyes again, a heightened sense of consciousness enveloped him, one that was different from when he first woke, and one alike from that gained from a power nap.

This state of alertness made him realize that she was no longer in the facility. Her scent lingered, but there was no movement, nothing. Kurama strained to see the wall clock. It was only seven in the morning. She had probably gone to the university.

He rose, blinking at the light that had streamed into the small window at the opposite wall, illuminating the bookshelf next to the table recently cleared.

When he stepped behind the door, a small piece of paper touched his toes. He bent down to pick the yellow paper, and read the professor's flowing hand:

 _You can leave as soon as you wake or you can do the exercises I have set aside for you, but make sure to be here tonight after your dinner. We have a lot to cover. I'll be waiting._

 _\- Aoshi_

Something about the careful, deliberate strain in the kanji symbols alerted him that she was still upset. But that didn't mean she was going to turn back on their agreement.

A gnawing guilt settled in the pit of his stomach.

He had underestimated her, but it was a necessary evil.

* * *

A/N:

* On the matter of Kurama's age, I'm following the theory from a site I forgot about. In the anime, Kurama was illustrated to have four tails. If I'm not mistaken, the legends say kitsune grow one tail every one hundred years; if we follow this, it means Kurama must be only 300 years old (as mentioned in episode 47 of the anime's English dub) but this isn't consistent with Yomi's rise to power that was mentioned to be 500 years prior to the present setting of the storyline in canon then. They were allies, after all, so Kurama should then be older than 300. Hence, I'm following the theory that kitsune grow a tail every one thousand years. Kurama would then be 3000 years old if he had four tails before he was hunted.

* PCR (polymerase chain reaction) is a technique used to replicate DNA. Why did Kurama fail the PCR? Well, he wasn't able to cool the tubes as soon as the cycle stopped, and so the enzymes continued acting on the DNA substrate and just jeopardized everything. Thanks to Chiaki.

* Culture media are used to grow microorganisms as well as plant tissues. Nutrient agar is a type of agar that is considered general since almost every microbe can be grown in it. Nutrient broth is merely the liquid form of nutrient agar.

* _lacZ_ gene is the gene responsible for _Escherichia coli_ 's ability to metabolize lactic acid.

* Agarose gel electrophoresis is used to separate different fragments of genetic material based on density and electronegativity. In this chapter, it was used to screen successful replicates of the _lacZ_ gene. Kurama found his replicons were heavier or more dense, meaning he failed with using the PCR.

* _Staphylococcus aureus_ is a bacterium typically found in the respiratory tract and skin. It can cause serious diseases and infections when the population reaches high numbers. Its specific epithet, _aureus_ , is by virtue of its golden appearance when grown in blood agar, a selective culture medium.

So that's the new chapter! I hope you've enjoyed it! Don't forget to leave a review! :)

Thanks to everyone who added this story to their faves and alerts, and to everyone who reviewed last chapter!

See you around!


	11. IV - Distraction

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part IV

 _"There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall."_

\- Cyril Connolly, _Enemies of Promise_

o-o

 _Distraction_

 _Ding dong._

Light, rapid footfalls dissolved through the material of the wooden door before it slid open to reveal the smiling face of his mother.

"Shuichi, dear!" she was saying, gathering him in her arms before he could cross the threshold.

He awkwardly put his free hand on the small of her back, giving a tight-lipped smile to Hatanaka and Shuuichi who were watching from the hallway.

"Hello, mother," he said, patting her gently.

Shiori leaned away but didn't let go of him. "I missed you, Shuichi!"

"I missed you, too," he said, offering her a genuine smile. He would have liked to deny it to himself internally, but he couldn't.

His mother escorted him inside their home, taking his jacket for him even as he declined the offer. It wasn't like he'd never been to this house yet they still treated him like he were a guest when he was supposed to be family.

Sometimes it made Kurama think they _knew_.

Hatanaka clapped him on the back, leading him to the dining room where Shuuichi had disappeared to.

The table was set and he took his familiar place next to Shuuichi who was already prattling away about his newly-bought game console that he wanted to try with his older brother. Kurama consented without much ado, thinking it wouldn't hurt to stay an hour more than he'd originally planned to.

This might be the last time he'd play the game with Shuuichi, after all. Surely the Professor wouldn't hold it against him. If she decided he was being inconsiderate, he would argue that he was still following her instruction, as he was technically staying for dinner.

He'd taken extra measures, too, having installed more plants in the laboratory for the professor to stay safe while inside. He had even left the number to his keitai for her to reach him immediately should the need arise.

"How have you been, dear?" his mother said as soon as they had said their graces. "I was so worried when your father told me you were out on a mission again."

She didn't seem to mind opening the topic even when they had only started with the meal. Kurama had never come to terms with this display of almost complete trust and confidence despite her not knowing the true nature of these missions, and even if he was relieved to see this change in her as it made everything else easier, he couldn't shake the guilt of having to let her deal with it passively, without contention.

She used to cry whenever he had to go, but his being invincible—proved upon returning to them, of course—seemed to have grown on her. Or she was being just as he remembered her years ago—aware of the unspoken authority that her strange son had on her, leaving her with no choice but to let him be, even when it killed her.

After twenty-seven years of being her son, Kurama had known better than to belittle a woman's instincts. He was sure she knew that he was far more than he let them see, even if she wasn't sure of the exact picture.

She knew he wasn't an average human.

Sometimes he thought it was her way of loving him and it was something he was almost thankful for, if not for the gnawing guilt it left him with. He had resolved to keep it a secret unless she finally decided to divulge the truth by confronting him.

Shiori didn't seem to mind the game, and he kept up with the masquerade. It was less acrimonious that way.

"Mother, I've told you not think too much about it. I can look after myself. The operations are running smoothly and I'm hoping to resolve the case soon."

"You can't take it away from me, Shuichi. We don't know what these missions are about, and I respect that, but at least allow me to feel what I should rightfully feel. Can I have that, son?" she said, giving him a tight-lipped smile as she took his hand.

"Yes, mother," he said, smiling back at her. "Anyway, enough about it, what have you been up to?"

"Your mother just joined the local choir," said Hatanaka, jumping at the first sign of steering the evening to a more placid direction. "She's a contralto, apparently."

"Is that right, mother?" said Kurama, smiling amicably. "I haven't heard you singing since that other time we've decided to celebrate your birthday by having karaoke."

"Where she never scored above ninety," Shuuichi chirped in, sniggering as he swallowed the gyoza. "Beats me how she managed to get in."

Kurama joined him in the teasing. "It sure is a mystery. How did you do that, mother?"

"I am so offended," she said, cradling her face in her hands. "Have some confidence in me, gentlemen. Chorale songs are different from popular ones."

"But you should at least fare well in popular songs to be considered a singer, mom," Shuuichi pointed out.

"Now, young lad, singing can be learned. Just look at the local idols. They're helmed to become performers," said Hatanaka, deciding to play the ever-loving husband. "Shiori will be able to learn in due time. She'd even show you what she's learned so far."

"Kazuya, don't volunteer me!" Shiori was protesting, lightly slapping her husband on the shoulder.

The four of them continued with the usual jeering that accompanied their dinner, which Kurama was thankful for if not for the inevitable, almost staple question his mother popped as they were having dessert:

"Son, have you found a girlfriend?"

He almost choked on his ice cream even when he'd braced himself for this. "Mother, please, not that again."

"Mom, you know how big brother isn't into that kind of stuff," said Shuuchi, winking at Kurama as he turned to look at him.

"Don't tell me…" Shiori let go of her spoon and gathered his hand in hers for the umpteenth time that night. "Son, I will not hold it against you if you don't feel _that_ way about women, but I wish you'd find someone you can spend the rest of your life with."

Kurama's eyes widened at the implication of her statement. "Mother—!"

"I know it's difficult, but you're twenty-seven and you've never had a girlfriend before. Is it because you're—"

"Mother, that is not the reason," he said, halting further ruckus.

Truth be told, Kurama wasn't opposed to the idea of being with someone with the same sex as he; Hiei was a prospect for years, after all. But he had never been in the stage of wanting to settle down. His friend didn't seem to find starting a relationship with him was convenient either even when they were well-nigh inseparable and dependent on each other as allies. Kurama wasn't what humans would call, "straight", but he found women interesting as well.

He was probably bisexual.

But he'd never really given his sexual preference a single thought in years when he was more set on coming clean with being a human and a demon at the same time.

Camaraderie and friendship were significant to a human society, but romance wasn't. He'd never bothered with the latter since it didn't concern him.

His life was complicated as it was.

"I haven't been in a relationship because I'm not interested to be in one," he said before any of them could say anything else.

The table was silent for a long while, and Kurama was almost bent to start another topic even if the previous one ended awkwardly when his mother spoke.

"Son, you do know we won't be here forever," she said, holding up a hand as he moved to protest. "I can't force you to settle down when you're not ready but could you please promise me one thing?"

Kurama's lips parted, as if to say that he was well aware that they—no, _he_ —would indeed not be here forever. Sooner or later someone was bound to go; it could be anyone. They, dying of old age or some other human reason; he, going away for there would be no one in this mundane world to need him anymore.

But when he looked at his stepfather and –brother, he conceded.

"If you finally find someone who makes you really happy, don't let go."

His mother's choice of words wasn't lost on him.

 _If_. Not "when", but "if".

Kurama could deal with that.

"Yes, mother, I promise."

o-o

Another red-inked circle was drawn on the flood of words that her student had assumed was a legitimate essay. Chiaki sighed, exhausted from correcting the papers she'd required her students to submit as journal reviews. It was almost summer vacation, but improvements weren't evident.

Her eyes flicked to the clock next to the cabinet where the light microscopes were locked. It was almost nine in the evening. She wondered what Kurama was taking so long for.

He'd left a note containing his keitai number. She wasn't going to call him up. Whatever was stalling him, she believed he had a good reason to let it.

o-o

"Kurama!" said Yusuke from the monitor of the communicator. "Finally!"

Kurama had somehow managed to free himself from Shuuichi's incessant ranting when he'd managed to beat him a third time in the game. He was out of the house after a hurried set of goodbyes and much insistence from his mother that he brought with him the bento she'd wrapped.

Shiori didn't let go of him for a good three minutes.

"I'm sorry, Yusuke. I had a family dinner to attend to," he said to the monitor, walking along the dark street littered with a few pedestrians who paid him no mind. "I'm afraid I can't see you personally tonight."

Yusuke's face fell, putting on an effective look of disappointment. "Why can't you come over?"

"The professor asked me to see her," he said without revealing any more than he needed to. "She says it's urgent."

Not to mention that it was too late into the evening and her thread of patience was probably growing short. Why she hadn't called him up evaded Kurama's realization, and the beginnings of worrying started to crawl up his chest.

His friend rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ditching me for a woman. Some friend you are."

"Yusuke—"

"I was being sarcastic. We're clear with not dating a client. Now, spill."

Kurama sighed, pausing just before he rounded the corner leading to the entrance to the train station. "We're convinced the half-demons were artificially-developed."

"How can that be?" Yusuke asked, eyes widening.

"Do you remember that they didn't have souls? We think it's because they didn't come from the natural process of being born."

"So... they're like clones or something?"

"Yes, it's an acceptable way of putting things in perspective. This makes the reason behind the attacks less difficult to understand, but it raises a few questions as well."

"Like what?"

"If someone or a group of people is already able to orchestrate the development of such creatures, then why would they need more scientists with them?"

Yusuke paused, scratching at the back of his head for good measure. "Probably because they've got bigger plans."

"Exactly. We're awfully behind them, then. While we're quizzing on how they're able to develop these creatures, they've begun developing, I assume, better ones."

"We're expecting a level-up from the ones we took down, eh?"

"Yes."

Yusuke flicked his wrist. "Easy-peasy. I'll tell the others."

Kurama shook his head and bid goodbye, shutting the communicator before he slipped into the train station.

It was almost eleven when Kurama finally set foot in front of the private laboratory and confirmed the source of the ghastly vocals and rock music he'd heard a block away. Strangely enough, it was all he needed to slow down from his running, relieved that nothing drastic had happened and that the professor was safe enough to be singing horrid tones. The singing wasn't particularly loud, but he was able to hear it just as clearly as now that he'd managed to step inside the laboratory.

Aoshi didn't even notice him as she slightly banged her head to the music while she shuffled through the laboratory, poring over the test tubes she had set on the workbench, tapping on the table while she jotted down on a notebook.

Kurama almost found this new side to her funny and would have stayed to watch her yell lyrics loaded with profanity for a few more minutes, but she turned around, effectively cutting her off mid-stanza, the music still playing through the background.

"Glad to see you've decided to join me," she said, not even batting an eyelash to the fact that he'd witnessed her rocker tendencies. She reached over a previously empty shelf and turned off the radio that was now sitting on it before she crossed her arms and regarded him.

"I'm sorry I made you wait. I would have gone earlier, but my mother insisted that I stayed a few more hours."

"Fair enough," she said, shrugging as she pushed herself from the table she had leaned on. "I hope you've had a good time."

He didn't know what else to say and when she turned around to inspect the tubes once again without the previous zest from the touch of music, he made an offer.

"Professor, why don't you take a break? My mother's made me a bento, would you like to share it with me?"

She paused and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him. "Jeez, you spend hours in your mother's crib and you still want to eat?"

"Bento boxes are best eaten fresh."

"Well, we've got a lot to cover—"

A guttural noise echoed through the room and Kurama's lips broke to a smile. "Have you eaten, Professor?"

She was red in the face and was trying not to break her calm. "I forget."

Kurama wouldn't have it. "I'm going to fix the meal and you will join me."

Aoshi didn't say anything and turned back to her work.

Kurama had to drag her by the sleeve not five minutes later.

o-o

Chiaki had never felt less motivated to get up on a Monday morning. Not to mention the person who was currently smirking at her from his office chair made everything worse.

"Well, then," he said, leaning back in a manner only fitting of someone his gravity. "Why don't the two of you sit down?"

Kurama was quick to take the offer and Chiaki reluctantly copied him, deliberately staring at her lap.

"I figured you'll need a supervisor, but since we're short-handed, we can't afford to have two people babysitting two experienced scientists."

Chiaki pressed her lips together as a growl almost escaped her.

"And since that is the case, I'm going to be your supervisor for one week."

"What?" she said, glaring up at him. "I requested for someone else!"

"Which is so like _you_ , Chiaki. But I requested to be put as your supervisor."

"You're working in another unit. Doesn't that make it a hassle to rear two _babies_ assigned to another?"

"No," Urawa was saying, leaning toward her over his table. "Nothing's a hassle when it comes to you, Chiaki."

She swallowed a sudden lump that made its way to her throat. _Sweet shit._

"Besides, I am in authority here since Ozu's getting his brains blown out."

Chiaki stood up from her chair. "I can't deal with this."

Urawa leaned back on his. "Aren't you being unprofessional?"

"Excuse me? You requested to be my supervisor, videlicet, to torment me for a week. Which is a very underhanded attempt at robbing me off my employment, of course."

He hollowly laughed. "And why would I want to take you out of the working force?"

Chiaki's tongue got stuck at the roof of her mouth. "I… Because I'm your greatest rival!"

Urawa began to laugh more loudly. "Chiaki, Yamamoto's no longer here to seek approval from. But I am here and I am the boss. I'm supposed to be the one to please, and even if it's against my better judgment, I'll let this initial display of complete lack of decorum pass."

The mere mention of Yamamoto's death made Chiaki weak in the knees. A new form of anger took shape in her gut, and even as she tried to regain mastery of herself, Urawa and his smirking face made her want to break something. Like his face.

She managed to clear her thoughts.

"I don't need anyone's approval, Urawa, and I hope you know Yamamoto's rolling in his grave right now that you've made it so much clearer how you're nothing but a second-rate copycat to his scientist."

Urawa scoffed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Aren't you only bothered by the setup because I might get in the way between you and your partner?"

Kurama didn't flinch and Chiaki glared even harder at Urawa. How dare he steer this to a whole new direction! "You're insufferable."

"Ran out of words to throw my way, Chiaki?"

The demon spoke for a first time since the bullshit started. "Professors, please, let's deal with this calmly."

He turned to Chiaki.

"Professor, I request you to accept the current conditions. It's only for a week."

"Yeah, and if you pass, you can have all the time to stare doe-eyed at each other while doing 'lab-lab' work."

"Urawa—!"

"Professor Urawa, please give it a rest. Whatever Professor Aoshi has told you, none of it was true. We're not in any relationship. I'm certain she only said so to get you off her back."

Chiaki was sure he'd said something wrong. "Matsuda—"

"Wow, she tells you everything, huh?"

"—what the hell are you doing?"

"Are you sure you're not a mere confidant?"

"Don't listen to him!"

"Professors, please stop!" Kurama was saying, holding up both hands in surrender, his head of brown curls hanging in defeat. "I am unaware of your whole history, but I need this job and I implore you to do as the situation requires of you."

Chiaki was convinced this was excellent acting on Kurama's part. She should give it to him to find the right words to manipulate the odds in their favor. Like a true detective.

She bowed down with all the reluctance to submit to the male populace.

"Fine. Take care of us, Professor Urawa."

"Wow, Chiaki, I didn't know you still have it in you."

She straightened up, crossing her arms. "I'm not exactly as proud as you are."

"Professor Aoshi…"

Kurama's face was the picture of a saint, but Chiaki could take a warning. "Yeah, pretend I didn't say that. Let's get this over with."

o-o

"Chiaki! Matsuda!"

The micropipette almost slipped from Kurama's grip as a hand descended on his shoulder just as another pushed— _pulled_ —Aoshi away from him.

 _Finally._

A muffled, venomous voice echoed next to his right ear, and the warmth of someone he wasn't accustomed to made more stifling the already-charged air about them, followed by Aoshi's slapping away the gloved hand on her elbow.

"Didn't your lousy teachers tell you not to share a biosafety cabinet—much less _gossip_ while working next to it?" said Urawa, face mask bobbing up and down slightly as he spoke.

Aoshi rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently. "Urawa, we weren't _gossiping._ I was only taking the plates to place them in the chamber and was about to go and work on the task you've given. Could you please quit being an ass-hat?"

"Excuse me?" Urawa was suddenly laughing and wagging a finger in front of the sole woman in the room. "Chiaki, I know we're not in good terms and you get nervous around me that you can't stop coming up with insults to bring yourself to my attention—"

" _What?"_

Kurama inwardly sighed. In relief. _They're at it again._

He surreptitiously rose from the stool after he'd re-arranged and re-stacked the used instruments for decontamination.

Kurama figured this was bound to happen at an hourly rate, and even without Aoshi knowing, she was helping the plan he'd laid out with the team to come underway.

"—but you don't have the right to speak ill to a senior. I am a senior in this facility and you should know to address me in a more fitting manner."

Urawa was too much of a distraction. To Aoshi, but not to Kurama. This was the perfect timing.

"I'm sorry but last I heard, respect begets respect."

His eyes scanned the area, spotting the surveillance camera at one corner of the room.

"I hold authority over you in this place, Chiaki, and that should automatically warrant a display of respect."

He'd initially rallied against Yusuke's insisting that they execute these actions too early into the infiltration, but a series of counterarguments from the rest of the team had him backed to a figurative corner with no other choice but to do as they had wanted.

"You think? Then act like you are worthy of it."

 _"But would it be wise? Would my energy not be detectable?" so he said as he tried pleading with them._

"I act as is required of me, so you should your perform as well, Chiaki."

 _"These people are as suspicious as we are. We can't do this in broad daylight without anyone noticing."_

His eyes continued scanning the whole room before landing on the sign hanging by the door. He zeroed in on the direction of the lavatory.

 _"Yeah, but we're not here for nothing!" Kuwabara had said, upturning the chair he was sitting on in the process._

"Professors," he said, momentarily breaking the two of them from their incessant bickering. "May I go out? I need to use the toilet."

"Next time, you don't have to ask," said Urawa, turning back to a now seething and reddened Aoshi who didn't look like she was going to rest her case just yet.

He fought the urge to shake his head at the _mature_ scientists' behavior and made his way to the opposite end of the hallway, locking himself in the cubicle farthest from the door after making sure it was vacated.

His hand slipped into the side slit of his laboratory coat and found its way into his pants' pocket, fishing out the blue compact communicator that he silently opened.

o-o

In one of the bushes in the field across from the Institute of Molecular and Cellular Biosciences, Urameshi, Kuwabara, and Hiei were huddled in a tight knot in an attempt to remain inconspicuous. While Urameshi and the shrimp didn't have much of a trouble staying hidden, what with their obvious lack in stature and vibrant hair color, Kuwabara's legs have long gone dead from the squatting and extra bending that he had to endure for the past two hours.

Not to mention the summer heat had become less bearable these days. He was confident his armpits could soak rolls and rolls of tissue by now.

Kurama had promised to have the plan hatched by ten, but Urameshi insisted that they arrived as early as the fox did for his first day in the lab. It was almost admirable that the suggestion was coming from the lazy bum that was the detective, but since they had perched in their hiding place, Kuwabara surmised it ticked another tally on the list he'd updated for about the ten-millionth time: _Urameshi's Stupidity._

"Man, my legs are dead," he said for the umpteenth time.

Hiei didn't even tut this time.

"Stop whining like a three-year-old, Kuwabara. Mine have crossed back and forth to the Reikai too many times I lost count," said Urameshi, rolling his eyes at him in impatience.

Kuwabara slammed a fist on the back of his head—not too hard to send him catapulting out of their hiding spot but hard enough to get the rise out of him and satisfy his retaliatory hunger for putting his legs in such a crisis.

"Yeah, and you were the one who suggested that we hide in the bushes. Who had a better suggestion yesterday? I did, didn't I?" Kuwabara hissed before he could yell, remembering that they were supposed to stay hidden and unheard of.

Luckily, Urameshi thought it wise not to scream his lungs out either, rubbing at the sore spot. "Did you really have to do that?"

Hiei spoke. "The oaf was bored."

Urameshi whirled around to look at him. "Well I'm guessing you're bored, too, since you finally decided to open that lousy mouth of yours."

Hiei glared at him.

For no apparent reason, the person sitting between Kuwabara and Hiei slightly jumped from his crouch, fumbling for his pocket. Kuwabara had to pull hum back down before he could spring upward.

"What is it?"

"My communicator. Seems like fox boy finally decided to ring us up."

Sure enough, afro Kurama's face was in the communicator as soon as it opened.

"You can send Hiei in."

"About time, what took you so long?"

Kurama didn't even flinch at Urameshi's try at reprimand. "It took some time to distract our supervisor and request for a toilet break."

Shrugging, Urameshi turned to Hiei. "How much time do you need?"

Hiei was smirking. "Three minutes."

Kuwabara snorted. "Don't get way over your head, shrimp. _That_ building is huge."

"I'm perfectly aware of my limitations, oaf."

Before he could think of a response, Urameshi raised his free hand. "Okay, three minutes then. Go now, Hiei."

In a slight ruffle of leaves and branches, Hiei disappeared as a blur under the summer sun. Kuwabara zipped up the top of his blue overalls and placed the white helmet on top of his head, turning to Kurama who was still on the communicator.

"The professor?"

"In the laboratory. She proved to be quite the distraction for our supervisor."

"She knows the guy?"

"Intimately, I should say, and just about everyone else in here."

"She's that much of a big shot, eh?" said Urameshi, turning his mustache less askew.

"In the scientific community, of course."

Kurama's face suddenly disappeared from the screen, replaced by a dimness similar to one from a room with windows but not artificial lighting. Kuwabara could barely make out Kurama's curled silhouette in the screen. It seemed the shrimp had gotten his job done right.

"That's our signal," said Urameshi. "Let's get going."

The two of them rose from their positions in a series of curses from the pins and needles in their legs. Urameshi had said goodbye to Kurama and stashed the communicator back to his pocket and the two of them trudged up the grassy field towards the expensive-looking facility. It sure seemed quite something, except that now he saw the building as what they supposed it was—a stronghold for a brewing disaster.

Urameshi and Kuwabara entered through the basement parking, saluting the guard as they flashed their falsified worker IDs. They took the emergency stairs and started their ascent to the electrical control room where Hiei was waiting for cover up.

A slight, suppressed spike of energy made the two of them pause from taking the third flight of stairs, and without even acknowledging it, they knew it was Kurama's ki.

o-o

A few more seconds… a little more to let the farthest tendrils attach to the substrates. Hopefully Aoshi and Urawa had not noticed how long he was taking to come back with the power interrupted. He could hear several sets of footsteps—some harried and some calm—outside the hallway.

The plant had already taken root in the soil below, but he needed a few more seconds to have the vine envelope the entire building. He could go faster, but this was the most that he could do while trying to keep his energy at a level discreet enough for only the most sensitive of beings to take notice.

A drop of sweat stung his eye, and he wiped at it with his free hand.

o-o

"What on earth is happening?" Urawa was yelling as he strode about the main room as every single machine buzz was reduced to a deafening nothing.

Chiaki followed him to the room where everyone else from their department had gathered after the lights went out. The room was steadily growing warmer from the lack of a functional air conditioning and the sheer mass of warm-blooded people swarming in from the laboratories.

Her eyes searched for the curly-haired Kurama who had gone away while she was trying to draw the line between her and Urawa. The irksome man seemed to enjoy torturing her to no end and she wasn't sure how she was going to see through the conclusion of this mission in one piece with a second-rate dragon breathing down on her neck.

Not to mention her ally was currently missing in action and seemed to have abandoned her for good measure.

"There seems to be a power interruption, Professor Urawa," said a junior research assistant.

Urawa paused and threw up his hands in the air. "I know _that_ , what do you take me for?"

 _A fool, of course,_ Chiaki thought as she lagged behind the crowd and closer to the door to the hallway.

"Oh, the maintenance is going to hear from me," said the already red-faced Urawa to the room at large, rushing past her, his unbuttoned laboratory gown billowing in his trail.

Chiaki chuckled, amused at how he looked like he could strangle someone. She stalked from the scene, deciding she could use the break for a quick smoke in the fire exit stairs.

"Professor Aoshi," said the familiar voice, and she turned around to see Kurama following her. "Where are you going?"

 _Weird question… unless—_

"That's not exactly the question I was expecting, but to humor you, I'm taking a smoke."

He paused in his footsteps and Chiaki looked over her shoulder, cocking her head in a gesture of invitation for the demon with a face of faux calm.

"It's going to take a while before they sort this out, I'm guessing. You can use the time to tell me what _exactly_ happened," she said as soon as she started walking again.

Kurama caught up and ambled beside her silently. She wasn't very confident that he had something to do with this blackout but his quiet assent was rather telling.

Chiaki sat on the topmost step while he stood at the far corner, as if trying to put as much distance as he could between him and the lit end of her cigarette. Big whoop, second-hand smoke wasn't going to kill a demon, even a demon-human hybrid like him. He must be grossed out was all.

"Start shooting," she said after taking a long first drag, letting the smoke escape through her nostrils.

"While I was gone, I gave the others the signal to cause the power interruption so I could install the surveillance plants."

Chiaki almost choked, masking it as a cough. "And you didn't tell me?" she said, suddenly overcome by the sense of cutting her smoking session short just because she was left out of everything.

"You offered the necessary distraction for Professor Urawa for me to exit and I figured you wouldn't have to know about the plan to do what is required of you," said the man in a ponytail.

Her mouth hung agape and the cigarette fell to the floor. "That's a marvelous display of confidence in me, thanks."

She picked up the stick, only to put it out against the stone floor before wrapping the unconsumed half in a paper towel she'd stashed in her lab coat while cleaning a test tube earlier.

"I'm sorry that we didn't tell you, but the others voted for it."

"And I'm not allowed to say anything against what you guys want to do," she said with spite she didn't know she still had after already casting too much of it against Urawa. "Am I too bad an actress that you can't trust me enough to just tell me the short of it?"

Kurama was silent for a moment. "I would have you involved, Professor, believe me, but we thought it best not to let you know. Urawa is too suspicious as it is and with how he is around you, we can't afford him knowing."

"I'm not stupid to tell him anything."

"But he can be smart enough to provoke you to getting a desired reaction."

Her mouth had run dry. She couldn't think of anything to say against it. She always seemed to snap whenever Urawa strutted in the picture.

 _Damn these feelings._

"Professor, I implore you to stop being deterred from what we've set out to do. I understand that you harbor ill feelings toward him but we can't afford your losing your nerve whenever he's around. Everyone in this facility is a suspect, I hope you keep that in mind."

"I get it," she said through gritted teeth. God, she must be extremely tired from the energy she had to put into meeting Urawa head on that she could so easily take what this demon was saying without even trying. "I promise to keep a level head."

"That's very nice of you but I do have one request."

Her head whipped up to look at him, eyes narrowed. "What?"

Kurama straightened, pocketing his hands. "From here on, you will know of our next steps. In exchange, you must keep up with the appearance of a spiteful rival to Urawa."

 _"What?"_

The warmth from the cigarette stick wasn't lost just yet in the wad of paper towel, and Chiaki felt the slight sting as she squeezed too hard on it.

"There's a big possibility that Urawa knows more than he would let on, and I would need you to keep him distracted when I inspect his office. He is currently the head of this facility, as Ozu is out, which adds to the possibility that he is involved in this elaborate plan."

Chiaki's mouth opened and closed, unable to comprehend the logic behind such a risky endeavor and the part that she was supposed to play. Being hostile towards Urawa wasn't difficult to do, as it was the only way she could be with him, but to knowingly distract him? It was impossible and Kurama knew that.

"I'm not following, Kurama. Why would you have to rummage his office? I thought you've taken care of your plants, so why the need to do something that dangerous?"

"I was a thief, Professor. You need not worry about me."

He was dodging the question. "But Urameshi caught you."

"No, I surrendered to him."

"I—I don't know. This is too risky."

"No, Professor, it's not. Trust me."

With the way Kurama was looking at her, not quite pleading but confident… Chiaki sighed, ridden of any other choice. She wasn't allowed to have a say, after all. Who was she anyway?

"When are you hatching this master plan?"

Kurama smiled. "I'll tell you when the time comes."

 _I sure hope we don't get caught this early._

o-o

It seemed Urawa was too upset of the power interruption that he didn't bother the two of them for the rest of the day and settled inside his office instead.

"No, it's because the blackout bamboozled everything he was working on in the other unit. Knowing that old fart, he's probably panicking by now. He can't mess up his experiments lest he wanted to lose that research grant," Aoshi said, correcting him.

She really knew him that well.

Kurama slipped out of his laboratory coat as she did, and they made their way out of the building before Urawa could make them do anything more than they had to.

When they reached the basement parking, the two of them went for separate directions. Aoshi didn't seem to notice that he had started for the backdoors until they were five feet away.

"Where are you going?" she asked, twisting around to look at him.

"The Eyevine should have borne fruit by now. I'm collecting it. I thought you'd want to see."

"You don't say."

Kurama smiled and she turned to walk next to him. They silently strode to the metal gates and nodded to the guard, bursting to the darkness outside. It had gotten late, and he wondered if she would want to see the recordings for herself at this time.

He led the way to the far corner of the building, crouching by the huge oak tree flanking the fence. The vines that had dangled from the branches, hidden securely between the wide trunk and the fence from any chance passers-by, slightly shone to life at his silent bidding.

He stretched his arm out to fit his hand into the small crook between the trunk and the stone fence, and plucked the transparent, golf-size fruit dangling from the roots of the oak.

He took his briefcase and placed the fruit inside, while Aoshi stared dumbfounded.

"What just happened? I didn't see anything."

Kurama stood up and dusted his pants. "Then that means no one else saw it but I. But don't worry, you'll see how it works later."

He started walking again and Aoshi ran past him.

"Go to hell, you sly bastard!"

Kurama chuckled as he jogged after her who was going back to the basement parking. "But Professor, are you not going to offer me a ride?"

"No!" she yelled without looking back at him.

He stopped. "See you at the diner, then?"

She whirled around to flip her pinkie at him. "Race you to it!"

Kurama shook his head in disbelief. She was being unfair, but he wasn't opposed to the idea of a good ten-mile run.

* * *

A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm really sorry it took quite a while to post an update. The term has been insane and I couldn't write anything for two weeks. I've been adding as much as I could to what I've written the previous week and I was only able to complete this chapter about two days ago. How do you find Kuwabara's POV? I've been meaning not to include anyone else's narrative except for Kurama's and Chiaki's, but I had to unless I'd rather leave everyone wondering about what happened.

* 'lab-lab' - Urawa deliberately used repetition since in Japanese there is no exact phonetic distinction between "l" and "r" sounds. So, if he were speaking in Japanese in this story, he would have said, "rabu-rabu", which is practically "love-love" in English, a Japanese slang meaning being "lovey-dovey".

* On the issue of Kurama's sexuality, I can only say that I never closed my eyes to the possibility that he and Hiei had indeed been somehow attracted to each other. This is not to mention that Kurama as the demon had hundreds of years to explore this aspect of his life. I'd like to think that Kurama is bisexual and had had romantic experiences with members of both sexes and I'm going to stand by it.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and to those who faved and added this to their alerts! So, how was this chappie? Loved it? Hated it? Please do tell!

See you next chapter! :)


	12. IV - Farewell

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part IV

 _"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."_

– Chuck Palahniuk, _Diary_

o-o

 _Farewell_

The entire lecture hall erupted in a series of shouted hallelujahs and "Banzai!" as soon as Kurama introduced himself as the new professor to the class that included the rather tactless student who'd confronted Aoshi only about a week ago. This reaction didn't surprise Kurama as much as he would have if not for the confidence the professor had put in forecasting the scene.

"Did she finally get sacked, Professor?"

Kurama wasn't even halfway to opening his mouth when the double doors from above opened and revealed the small professor in her pinstriped pants and sleeveless blouse, her arms crossed.

"I didn't," she spoke loudly, carrying through the hall and effectively cutting off the lingering celebratory yells that followed the fearless inquiry.

The hall was silent, the students frozen.

"For your information, I have been promoted to teach advanced courses. I'm guessing it's because the Chairman thinks I've had enough of you little shmucks acting like you're worthy of being in this school," she said, cocking an eyebrow. Then, with a smirk that could rival Hiei's, she said, "See you when you finally grow back your tails. All that running with them between your legs has probably had them hacked."

And then she sauntered up the stairs, the clanking of her heels echoing through the suddenly quiet hall.

It took a while after the double doors had closed for the students to turn back to him. He had probably acted his part well despite the fact that he'd caught her scent even before she could put three feet between her and the entrance, thanks to one of the students who had to wave his hand in the air before Kurama appeared to have noticed.

"Yes, Mister—?"

"Yanagi, Professor. Are you going to pick up from where she left off?"

The meaning behind the sentence wasn't lost on him, and even if he had wanted to be less terrible to the students on his first day, Aoshi had made it a point to keep him clueless regarding the scope of today's recitation.

"If by that you mean we'd be discussing the next unit, then yes, we're going to continue where you left off."

Another chorus ensued from the students, this time of groans of frustration.

Kurama tried his best to look as sorry as an innocent, newly-hired faculty member.

o-o

Chiaki was beginning to regret that she'd let Kurama infiltrate Todai as a teacher. Apparently, not even the ghastly sight of his fake, wild curls could chase away admirers. As though Urawa and other obnoxious people from the laboratories weren't pestering enough, students had come back and forth in the department every single chance they could get to have an appointment with him over anything as obtuse as a critique on a paper he'd marked and returned within the same day.

In all of her years as a teacher, she had no more than five students approaching her within a week. More than being jealous of the attention that the afro mole was getting, she was extremely irked by the fact that some of the students had come to make snide remarks on how _horrible_ she was as a professor and how she was no match to Good Professor Matsuda. They'd carefully laced their words with contrite tones on her behalf, but she'd kicked Honda out one time to the dismay of the department chair because the student was being the imbecile that she'd been not a month ago.

Kurama couldn't seem to drop the image he'd adapted of a reasonable, considerate junior, and Urawa kept sneering at this blatant act of neglect for a _friend_ every time.

She was feeling better this Tuesday morning, as Kurama had gone to his first period, and he was left with an hour and a half of peace before hell's flames began rising again. Two weeks into the investigation and Kurama hadn't been able to break into Urawa's office. It wasn't even because she didn't provide a very good distraction. Kurama seemed to have plainly set aside planning.

By the end of the week, she was feeling a weird combination of restlessness and lethargy for what seemed to her was dallying on Kurama's part that she grabbed him by the collar as soon as she arrived at the diner some minutes after him who'd taken the train as soon as he got off from work.

Urawa had been extra obtrusive to assign her to decontaminate a pile of glassware. His one week of supervision had extended to a whole month, as Ozu seemed to have no intentions of coming back anytime soon.

It didn't surprise her when she almost yelled at him when she opened her mouth. "We're going to take a well thought-out plan of action, Kurama, and I don't want you leaving me out of whatever you're doing or not doing right now, do you understand?"

Kuwabara had risen from his seat and raised both hands to her in an attempt to calm her down, but she thought it unnecessary since she harbored no further violent intent on his effeminate friend. God knows she'd make a fool out of herself if she ever decided to lay a finger on Kurama's red hair.

Kurama stared at her, unblinking, before he released a breath and smiled. "I was only waiting for you to ask."

Not fully getting it, she let go of his collar nonetheless and sat down next to him. Kuwabara seemed to take the hint that there would be no scuffle to ensue and took the seat next to Kurama as well.

"Your behavior the past weeks seemed inconvenient to the plan that I have made up, so I had to make sure that you were finally willing to see it through."

She only rolled her eyes at him. "Well? What do I do?"

o-o

Monday morning found Chiaki extremely agitated and nervous. Kurama had presented a fairly simple plan that did not involve distracting Urawa the least effective way—by picking a fight with him. Apparently, Kurama'd picked up on the ape's neurotic tendencies when it came to his experiments.

The plan was brilliant and met no objections from the team, and so Chiaki was confident the three other key players to this strategy were waiting for the signal from their station.

While she was happy that she was finally invited into this plan, she wasn't particularly excited about the role she received. Kurama insisted that it was vital to the whole act, lest she wanted to be suspected.

She didn't, of course. She'd gotten this far and she wouldn't want to be a drawback to the team.

Kurama came up behind her after Urawa barked them an instruction. She took with both hands the single culture dish Kurama handed to her, careful to hide a folded piece of paper at the bottom from Urawa's eye in case he turned around. Kurama covered for her as she placed it inside the oven, and they loaded the rest of the culture dishes inside and locked the door.

Ten minutes into a relatively silent task from Urawa and the oven was visibly smoking.

Urawa's glasses almost slipped all the way down the bridge of his nose as he ran to the obviously burning oven while shouting for someone to get the fire extinguisher.

Kurama dashed to the shelf while Chiaki slipped a hand in the pocket of her coat, fumbling with shaking hands for the communicator inside. She almost let go when Urawa's panic-stricken face turned to her, as if he knew there was some monkey business going on.

But Kurama came hurtling down and distracted him from deducing her lack of action, and hoping that he'd dismiss it for shock, she flipped the communicator open inside her pocket and pushed the third button her thumb touched.

Hiei and Urameshi had ten minutes to rummage Urawa's office as the whole building shut down.

The lights dimmed and beeping came from various machines about them as smoke ensued from the burning oven. People began rushing toward the open door, witnesses to Kurama and Urawa battling with the humongous tongues of flames.

She didn't know the oven could burn this bad. Come to think of it, she'd never burned anything before. Not even with the assistance of a burning spell courtesy of Hiei.

Chiaki took charge for damage control and ushered the whole staff out of the unit and into the hallway, refusing to answer questions from them as to how the fire started. She didn't know, she said. Her heart was beating as if she'd just drowned from the smoke, afraid of what could go wrong, afraid of what Hiei and Urameshi would find.

Some minutes later, too short for Hiei and Urameshi to have done their part, too long for her to have calmed herself to face Urawa's wrath, the soot-covered men emerged from the unit, their coats burned in places.

"Nothing to be afraid of," said Urawa calmly, which was so uncharacteristic of him. "Nothing else burned but the oven."

"Professor," a junior researcher dared to speak, standing in a huddle with other youngsters. "It's the second time something like this happened. Are we in danger?"

Everyone turned to Urawa. Chiaki copied them.

 _Are we in danger?_

Are she and the team in danger?

If someone could pick up on the things that had happened at the IMCB and if the facility indeed had something to do with the previous attacks, then yes. They were in danger. Their cover could be blown just as easily as Hiei's mystical powers had set the oven in flames.

Five more minutes for Hiei and Urameshi.

Urawa pushed his glasses up his nose. When he spoke calmly again, Chiaki felt like puking.

"No, we're not in danger. This is nothing but an accident." He eyed Chiaki levelly, and she swallowed. "We shall seek the help of the fire bureau to investigate the nature of the incident. I request everyone to please pack up for the day and keep out of the area. Make sure all your experiments are secure. Work will resume tomorrow."

The crowd broke up and Chiaki looked to Kurama. He nodded his head very slightly to assure her that no one would know.

"Matsuda, Chiaki, come with me."

She looked at Kurama once more before ambling beside him and followed Urawa to wherever he was taking them.

The beating of her heart overpowered the echo of their footsteps down the hallway. She could only imagine the questions that he would throw her way. _How could you mess up? How could this happen? What were you doing?_

 _How could there be no evidence?_

She didn't even hear the screak of his shoes against the tiled floor as he turned around, never realizing it if not for Kurama's hand on her elbow.

"Matsuda, go to the reception. Call the fire bureau. Chiaki, come with me to the fire exit."

Her face didn't betray her confusion, her unspoken question met with a mere shake of Kurama's head and Urawa's turning his back to her.

Kurama disappeared to do as Urawa had asked. Chiaki decided to follow the boss, too anxious to even feel relief that they weren't headed for the office and Hiei and Urameshi would never be discovered.

The walk to the fire exit seemed too short for her to puzzle about the situation once more and too soon he was sitting on one of the steps of the stairwell leading to the upper floor while he leaned on the corner farthest from him and closest to the door.

It took a lit cigarette before he said anything. "Would you like one?"

She shook her head.

He pocketed the cigarette box and his lighter. "I think you know why I brought you here."

"Because I set the oven on fire?"

He blew a smoke ring. He was always the one who did that. "You're not sure?"

Chiaki could only swallow. God, she was blowing this whole thing.

"It's either you're not sure or that's not it." He stretched his legs in front of him and dusted soot off his pressed khaki pants. "Tell me, Chiaki, what did you do to warrant this meeting in a fire exit?"

 _I am busted. I am busted. I am busted._

He turned to her. At first he was smirking and when he stood up and stepped on the unfinished cigarette, he was frowning. His eyes almost looked sad and… worried.

"I know you're smart and we're no fools, so Chiaki, what was it that you did? What are you doing?"

His eyes had never been this intense since the day they split. With the intensity came a plethora of other things that she could and could not define. Anger, dismay, fear, doubt… and a look that said she betrayed him.

"What are you doing? Answer me!"

He looked ten times taller and as he advanced on her, she couldn't do anything else but back into the corner she had stupidly pinned herself to.

"Urawa, I—"

"I'm not going to hear any lie from you, Chiaki," he said, finally closing the gap between them and pressing his forehead to hers. "I know you never lied to me and you never will."

 _I never did, and you didn't believe me, idiot. And now you're in this mess. We're in this mess._

"So tell me, what is it?"

She couldn't shake him away, not when his hands are cupping her face, not when his breath fanned in front of her, not when she was washed up with the urge to cry from apprehension and guilt and from his warmth.

"Chiaki, please, trust me. What's going on? Why are you doing this?"

"Urawa, I don't understand." What was she supposed to say?

"I said I'm not going to hear any lie from you, Chiaki. Tell me what you know."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh God. Oh God," he was whispering, his voice too weak.

And then she was in his arms, and he was speaking to her ear, his voice breaking. "God, Chiaki, how could you be so stupid? How could I be so stupid? I should have never listened to them. You should have never done this."

 _He knows._ The tears left her eyes as soon as it clicked, no, as soon as she accepted that he did, in fact, know what she was up to.

His body was trembling, and she knew he was trying not to cry. "I'm so sorry for everything. I was so stupid. I've messed up, Chiaki. And you can't mess up. I can't let you mess up. You are so much better than me."

The ability to say anything coherent seemed to have left her that instant.

He'd finally admit that he was wrong. She had been longing to hear him say he was stupid for ever doubting her. She had imagined all the scenarios of how he would declare his defeat, how he would take her again.

But she never thought it would be like this. In a fire exit. An escape route. Dark, damp, but not too cold thanks to his missed presence.

"I'm so sorry I never loved you the way you loved me, Chiaki. I'm so sorry I was so selfish. I'm so sorry."

She wrapped her arms around him to feel this warmth that she missed. _I love you, Isamu. I still do. I still do. Would you come away with me?_

"I'm so sorry. Please be careful," he whispered before squeezing her tight and pulling away.

He turned to open the door but hesitated before grabbing her face and placing his lips upon hers.

It was firm and hard, desperate and chaste. It didn't make a sound, as if he had always been this careful. But it took her breath away like it always had.

He opened the door and left her standing alone.

The fire exit was too cold after.

o-o

The moment she met him at the parking lot, Kurama was perfectly aware that something had happened to Aoshi. She wouldn't say anything when he asked and much to his surprise, she absently acquiesced to his request that he rode on the motorbike with her.

He'd asked to accompany her since he was worried that she was far too dazed with whatever she was thinking to make it to the meeting safely and intact.

After fifteen minutes of hanging onto what little material the motorbike could offer him (he'd done away with holding onto her) as they travelled at a speed quite nearing the border of the limit, they arrived at the diner and proceeded to the apartment upstairs after greeting Keiko at the counter.

"Kurama, Professsor, good for you to join us," said Yusuke as soon as they appeared at the landing.

He was huddled around the low table in the sitting room with Botan, Kuwabara, and Hiei, various notebooks and a stack of paper dumped in the center of the table while a duffel bag lay limply on the couch where Yusuke had probably tossed it.

Aoshi silently sat next to him without a single word. She was staring at the smuggled belongings on the table—staring, but not seeing.

Yusuke waved a black, leather-bound notebook in front of Kurama. "This looks like his journal."

"Did you find anything else?"

Kuwabara lifted another leather-bound note, this one thicker by an inch. "It's a record of sorts." He flipped it open to a page before handing it to Kurama.

Kurama immediately found a name that he was expecting: _Yamamoto Koji_. But it was struck out once with red ink.

And then another: _Urawa Isamu_.

And then: _Aoshi Chiaki._

Kurama's eyes rose to the top of the page. There was no heading. He flipped to the previous page and the one before that until finally he reached the first page of the notebook. No headings, as if Urawa was deliberate to leave this detail out, but more than a hundred names occupied about five leaves of the notebook. Red-inked strikes were found here and there, most of which were littering the first two pages. He flitted through the pages once more. The number of strikes increased as he moved to the earlier ones.

Yamamoto Koji was dead. His name was struck out. Would that mean—?

"Professor Aoshi."

The professor slightly jumped at the mention of her name. For the first time, she seemed to be aware of their presence. "You called for me?" she asked, blinking at him innocently.

Kurama handed the notebook to her. "This looks like a record of names. Yamamoto, Urawa and Aoshi are listed in the last page. Yamamoto has been struck out in red like most of the other names in the previous pages."

She wasn't listening to him and even then he realized she wouldn't need to. The moment she found their names and scanned through the other pages, her eyes became bigger and bigger. Her hands began to shake as she flipped through the next section of the notebook.

Kurama leaned in to see. This section contained dates starting two years ago in one column and a short narrative in the other. She browsed through most of them until she found a more recent entry.

 _Aoshi Chiaki and Matsuda Kou: hired._

Aoshi lifted her eyes to look at him. "Where did you find this?"

"Urawa's office," said Yusuke with an edge to his voice. "What did you get?"

She swallowed. "It's a record of the names of scientists," she said after a moment's hesitation. "Some have died, some I know have disappeared."

"And the other section?"

"A record of events since from two years ago."

"What happened two years ago?" Kurama asked.

"I left IMCB. Yamamoto left with me."

She flipped to a page containing names and pressed the notebook on the table, putting pressure on the pages so the point where they were glued to the spine was visible. Leaning in, Kurama saw it: a small patch of paper clinging onto the string that bound the pages.

"A leaf is missing," Botan whispered, leaning in to see as well.

"No, four are. At least."

Aoshi went back to the other section and paused at another spread. She pointed at an entry on the left page which was obviously truncated and another entry missing a first part on the next page. Her finger then slid to the dates.

She then pressed on the gutter once more. This one was clean and contained no patch of paper to give away that there was a tear at this point. She then turned to a random blank page and tore a leaf. The leaf adjacent to it was quite easy to pull out after.

"If a person were to leave no evidence, he would have to tear adjacent leaves. Since a leaf was torn from each section, two more should be missing."

"Do you have any idea what events could have been recorded that Urawa didn't want anyone seeing?"

Aoshi scanned the pages where the entries had been truncated. "Something happened between the first and third attacks."

"The second attack?" Kuwabara asked, incredulous.

"That one or something related, like Yamamoto's 'suicide'," Aoshi said, nodding her head. "But don't you notice something else?"

"What?"

"If Urawa had been meaning to be careful, why did he leave the other tear obvious?"

"I'd bet he was just being careless," said Yusuke.

Kurama didn't know what Aoshi was driving at.

"He wasn't."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Kurama, I think he knew what we were up to."

"What?" Yusuke exclaimed.

She was talking fast suddenly. "He talked to me at the fire exit. He was aware that we ransacked his office. He knew and he allowed it."

"Because he'd taken substantial evidence with him!" said Botan, shaking her head in realization. "Oh no, I need to inform the SDF immediately."

"You don't need to. He won't rat."

"Why do you say that, Professor?"

"I know he won't."

"What did he actually say?" Kurama asked.

Aoshi looked at him for a moment before shaking her head. "It's not important. He's not going to rat us out. He took some evidence with him but he made it obvious. If he'd meant to betray us, we would have run into some trouble by now."

"Why would he take some evidence with him, then?" asked Kuwabara.

"To prove his loyalty," said Kurama, understanding what the professor meant. Something must have happened in the fire exit. Whatever that was, he was trusting the professor to know better.

Hiei spoke for the first time. "They're right."

Yusuke scoffed. "Took a dip again, Hiei?"

Aoshi glared at the two of them.

"I can't take a risk," said Hiei without looking away from the professor. "I had to know."

Botan clapped her hands to call their attention. "So what now?"

Kurama turned to Aoshi. "Professor, do you recognize all of the scientists? Do you or Urawa personally know them?"

She hesitated. "I know some of them, and I think Urawa does just as well. Why?"

"The ones with red marks, are they dead?"

She turned to the names again and quickly scanned over the pages. "Those that I recognize, yes."

"Could you mark those who died naturally and those who committed suicide, got into an accident, or were murdered?" He handed her a pencil. "You said some of them disappeared?"

"Yes, for unknown reasons. One from Russia, he was a forensic pathologist. Disappeared without evidence almost two years ago."

"Do you know why your name was written in the notebook?"

She shook her head after a second's thought.

"I think it's because they want you into this plan, but we still need to see."

Aoshi visibly swallowed again. "Urawa's name was in it."

Kurama only nodded at her.

Yusuke scratched at his nose. "What about us, fox boy?"

"G&P. If there's any time that they would carry out their plans, it would be now."

Yusuke and Kuwabara sprang up and stretched. Botan conjured her oar and opened the window before flying out. In no time, Kurama and Aoshi were left inside after Hiei was dragged out.

Minutes passed in a loaded silence, as if a question was hanging in the air. It took many instances of catching her eyes on him before she finally spoke. "Kurama, do you trust Urawa?"

 _And would he be safe with the evidence that he carries with him?_ "I trust him enough not to tell what we know, but I don't trust them to spare him, if that's what you want to know."

What little light remained in her eyes dissipated, and soon enough she looked away, turning her whole back to him. But he heard her crying anyway.

He didn't do anything.

o-o

God, he was in trouble. She could feel it in her fingers. Every single mark she added to the notebook filled with his scrawls was a percent certainty. He was in trouble for not ratting them out. He needed her help. But how?

She needed to trust him. He'd be fine. She couldn't do something about it now or their whole plan would blow. She just had to have faith in him.

But like Kurama said, they couldn't trust whoever Urawa was working for. If they discovered this, they wouldn't hesitate to harm him.

But she couldn't blow any of this. She couldn't do anything to blow everything that they had been working for.

She turned another page. It was blank.

She sighed. Of course it would be blank. Her name was the last entry, wasn't it?

"I'm finished," she said, turning to Kurama.

He looked up from Urawa's journal. She briefly wondered what he could have discovered. He reached out to take the record book and she waited.

A moment of silence punctured by his repeated turning of the pages passed them before, satisfied, he turned back to her. "It does look like what I've expected."

"What you've expected?"

He closed the record book. "It seems Urawa took with him the names that mattered. The names you've marked as missing didn't amount to an alarming number given the nature of this elaborate plan."

Too worried about Urawa to really care, Chiaki only managed to murmur a disconnected "Hmmm."

Kurama's lips curled to a shadow of a smile, neither happy nor amused. "I don't think we should throw this away, though. I can always ask Koenma to check the records."

"How would you do that?"

"I'll have to ask Botan to come back."

"You can always do it yourself, don't you?"

Kurama cocked his head good-naturedly. "But I can't leave you alone and defenseless."

"I'm sure the defenses you've put up at my place are enough to keep me safe."

"At least let me come with you."

She looked away. "Okay."

A few minutes later they said goodbye to Keiko and went out to ride home on her bike. It took her a while to realize that no one had ridden with her since two years ago. She hadn't allowed anyone, not even her closest friends.

She must have been quite out of it that she let Kurama take Urawa's seat.

 _Goddammit._ If only she could do something about it. If only she knew where he was.

They didn't talk the whole ride to her apartment. They didn't have to. She didn't trust him to understand how conflicted she felt given the circumstances.

Urawa was a great moron, yes, but she loved him. She always did.

It would be so much better if only she knew where he was now.

Kurama was suddenly speaking to her ear. "Professor, could you please pull over? My communicator's gone off."

She turned to a deserted alley and halted. Kurama reached for his pocket and took out the ringing compact. She twisted on her seat to see him speaking to the pink device with the face shield of his helmet pushed up.

"Yusuke?"

"Kurama, G&P's under attack. The same monsters. Where are you?"

"I'm with the professor. We're headed to her home. Would you need me to convene with you?"

"No, we can handle this. Get your ass somewhere safe and make sure she's not seen. I don't understand why they would do the obvious but I'll beat myself if she gets in trouble."

"All right, we'll see you."

"Stay safe, bud."

Chiaki waited for Kurama to finish pocketing the device so he would look at her when she asked, "I'm in trouble?"

She must have sounded horrified.

"Chances are… you are. We should better be going, Professor."

She revved the bike and turned to a shortcut. _If I'm in trouble, then Urawa must be in trouble. Just where is he?_

 _And what of it if you know? What would you do, Chiaki?_

The two of them jumped off the bike as soon as she changed gears and pulled the key out of ignition. Kurama grabbed her by the elbow to the stairwell, the two of them taking two steps at a time.

A strange tingling sensation started at the base of her nape before spreading to her chest.

She didn't know what it was, but as soon as they hit the third floor landing, she found him.

In front of her doorstep.

Urawa.

And _blood._

Red, cold blood soaking his shirt.

Red, dried blood that had dripped from his lips.

She broke into a run, stumbling toward him. His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged. Her fingers found his pulse and it was there. Weak and slow, almost not felt.

"Urawa," she whispered, close to his ear, pulling him near her with difficulty. More blood oozed from a huge, gaping wound across his abdomen. "Hey, Urawa."

"Professor, we must get inside."

She ignored Kurama. She started shaking the man in her arms. "Hey, Urawa. Hey, answer me!"

He started stirring and she waited. She waited and looked only at him, listened to him take a labored breath and open his bloodshot eyes.

"Chi—Chiaki." His voice was hoarse, as if he'd injured his throat. Had he been screaming in agony? Had he been throwing up blood?

His hand found hers and squeezed. She squeezed it back.

"What have they done to you?" she asked, letting the tears fall. "Who did this to you?"

But he can only shake his head. "Don't. Cry."

She held her breath. "Urawa, please, what's happened to you?"

"Everything. Taken." His voice was too weak.

She leaned in and placed her ear to his mouth. "What did they take?"

With each word his breath that fanned her ear grew thinner. "Evidence. Letter."

"What letter?"

"Yama. About book."

"Yamamoto's book?"

He drew a sharp breath. "I to you."

"What do you mean?"

When she heard nothing but an intake of breath, she twisted back to look at his face. He was mouthing words to her. She couldn't understand, and she started to panic.

 _God, he's not going to make it—_

"What do you mean, Isamu?"

His eyes widened at the mention of his given name. This prompted a very small, almost imperceptible curl to his lips. But she saw everything, she memorized everything. From the tilt of his nose to the wrinkle on his temple.

And she read his lips when he voicelessly uttered, _"Suki."_

And she saw him close his eyes.

It started to register and her mind tried to go blank, to shut down. But he wasn't breathing. He didn't move and he didn't respond when she called his name.

He was not with her anymore.

He had left.

"Isamu?" she called again. Still no response. "Isamu."

A hand on her shoulder. Kurama's. It was too warm compared to Isamu's still form.

"Isamu?"

"Professor, let's get him inside."

She turned to Kurama.

"Is he gone?"

He sighed. "I can't feel anything from him."

"He's gone."

"He is. I'm sorry."

"What do we do?"

"Let's set him inside."

o-o

Kurama was soon ushering the professor into her apartment and hauled Urawa's body on his shoulders. For someone who just lost a friend, Aoshi seemed to take it well. She even ran up to a guest room and fixed the bed.

"What do we do now?

He corrected himself; she wasn't taking it well. Aoshi seemed to have taken being submissive to a whole new level that didn't become her.

She was in denial.

"I'll give Botan a call—"

The hairs in the back of Kurama's nape stood on end and he jumped, pulling the professor to safety. The window shattered to a hundred pieces in front of them, covering Urawa and the table. His defensive plants had sprung into life, holding at bay one of the hybrids that were too familiar to forget.

Screams emanated from the whole complex; Aoshi's cries of protest at the fate of Urawa's body were muffled by the shouts of agony of the creature. She tried to break free, but Kurama was quick to toss her on his shoulders and run for her room just as a ball of reiki and youki— _(Reiki and youki?)_ —drilled a hole in the captive's torso.

Reiki and youki?

He put her down before she could even react and before he could comprehend the gravity of the situation. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She was shaking, unfocused.

"Professor, I need you to pack your things. I'll hold them off."

"They murdered Isamu!" she said distractedly.

"I know, and I'm not going to let them harm you. Now pack your bags. Make sure you bring the pieces of evidence that we have. I'll make sure they don't reach you."

Another guttural roar and Kurama lifted a hand to bring his plants to life, ordering them to envelope the whole room, shutting out the sunlight from the window. He flicked his wrist and lit up several lamp weeds, alarmed at the increased intensity of shaking from the professor at the sudden, split-second darkness.

He turned to her again, the tears on her face glanced by the lamp weed's light. "I'm giving you five minutes, Professor. I can't hold them off for long. We need to run. Do you understand?"

"But what about Isamu?"

Was Keiko like this when she saved Yusuke? "If I were him, I wouldn't let you waste this chance to get out and save yourself. Trust me, Professor. Please."

A blast shook the ceiling and sent the lamp weeds swinging.

He gave her a pat on the shoulder before running to the window. He let his plants slide it open and vaulted out into the open yard. It took a moment before his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight but when they did, he did a double-take. Several half-demons were trying to climb to the professor's window and he took out his whip without a second thought.

Summoning a huge amount of youki, his whip grew longer. He jumped, piercing the air. He maintained one form and flicked the whip in huge, precise arcs that took down all of the half-demons in less than a minute.

The tingle didn't go away even as he realized that the area was clear. Angered roars echoed through the compound, and he dashed to the parking area, sighting a dozen more coming from the gate.

He dashed to meet them and didn't hesitate to continue his slaughter, not giving them a chance to react and throw a ball of reiki and youki his way.

Five minutes and this much blood in an open area. It was a mess to be in this business, but it was his choice. Right now, he couldn't care less about the other people in the complex. He would deal with them later. The professor must stay safe. They needed her.

After catching his breath, he threw his whip to wrap around the handrail in the open walkway and pulled himself to stand on her door. Without pausing he immediately bolted for her room and caught the half-open bag that she tossed at whom she thought was an enemy, screaming for mercy.

"Professor!" he said calmly.

She instantly stopped.

"The coast is clear. Let's go," he said, reaching a hand to her.

She hesitated, blinking several times at him. He couldn't fault her. This must be the most terrifying fifteen minutes of her life.

When she didn't move, he grabbed her hand. It was clammy and cold, but he didn't mind.

As they passed the hallway, she said, pulling him to a stop, "We can't leave Isamu behind."

"Botan will take care of him. I promise."

She searched his eyes and bit her lip. After shifting her weight on the balls of her feet several times, she said, "I need to see him one last time."

They'd lost so much time. But he nodded. "Please be quick."

She silently walked inside the ramshackle room and after three agonizing minutes that put them closer to the danger that they weren't fully out of just yet, she emerged, face wet and hands bloody.

When he took a second look at them, he realized it wasn't Urawa's.

It was hers.

"Let's go," she said, walking past him. Too calmly, almost dead.

And when she did, he knew.

She would never be the same.

* * *

A/N: Did you expect _that?_

Hello, readers! In case you were wondering, yes, I'm still alive. I'm so sorry it took almost two months for this long overdue update. I was so caught up in real-life college happenings that I wasn't able to find the drive and time to sit with this story. But now that the holidays are here and the term has come to a close, here I am again! Please expect another update soon. We're going to pick up immediately where we left off since it would be terrible not to know what would happen to Chiaki given that she's been through a lot just now.

I don't think greeting you "Happy holidays" would go well with the way this chapter went, but I hope you like it enough that you would leave a review (oh please do, this is a turning point to this story). Thanks to everyone who stumbled on this fic and decided to put it up for their alerts and faves! I love you all.

See you! Ciao!


	13. IV - Difficult

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part IV

"So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love."

― E.A. Bucchianeri, _Brushstrokes of a Gadfly_

o-o

 _Difficult_

"Professor, I'm driving."

"No, my bike, I drive."

"But your hands are injured and you refused first aid."

"I'd broken my wrist before and still I was able to drive."

Kurama pinched at the bridge of his nose. She was being difficult. "It's either I drive or we're _running_."

"I can't just leave my bike here!"

"Then will you please just listen to me?" he said, looking her straight in the eye. "Every minute we spend arguing is a mile we could put between us and whoever is after you."

Aoshi stilled, as if finally realizing that they were still in quite a quandary. She didn't say anything before snatching her rucksack from his hold—with a sharp hiss of pain—and dangling the keys in front of his face.

Kurama released a breath before swinging a leg to right the motorbike. He put on her helmet before his. The professor strained to slip the bag onto her back but was able to clamber behind him fast enough to not add to his increasing anxiety.

When she didn't move to secure herself, he took matters into his own hands. Without asking for her permission, he grabbed her wrists after starting the motorbike and wrapped her arms around his abdomen, careful not to make her still bleeding hands touch anything other than the crisp summer air.

This course of action was too quick that she didn't have time to react. Soon enough, they were out on the main street, and he managed not to go over the limit as he drove them to safety.

His passenger seemed to still be in her senses for when they took another turn away from the general direction of the diner, she shouted over the roar of the engine, "Where are we going?"

"Kuwabara's," he yelled back.

"Why not Urameshi's?"

"Safety first."

Then silence.

It was true but he didn't have to give further details as to why they were headed to another direction. She'd injured herself and now she required a place to stay before he could arrange a meeting with the rest of the team.

He only wished that the prospect of leaving her life behind in the meantime wouldn't affect her drastically. She had already gone through so much that he didn't trust she'd be able to have the energy to dissent whatever proposal they would come up with.

After almost ten minutes of silence, they pulled up in front of one of the many houses lining the immediate street to the train station. The Kuwabara residence stood without any semblance to the people who lived in it, a house that didn't invite anyone's notice. To Kurama, it was convenient as he and the people in his association lived in the shadows.

The two of them disembarked the motorbike and Kurama ran up to ring the doorbell by the steel gate. A wheeze emanated from the intercom next to the name plate by the stone post and Shizuru's voice was heard.

"Shizuru, it's Kurama."

"Kazu isn't in any trouble, then? Wait a sec."

He saw the front door slide open and the two of them backed away from the gate as Shizuru advanced to unlock it. Kurama looked over his shoulder to see the way Aoshi was itching to ask a question.

Shizuru didn't drop smoking nonchalantly in front of the stranger, even as she surveyed the damage the professor acquired.

She merely puffed out more smoke, as expected of her. "Okay, I get it. You go and I'll open the back gate for you. I'll take her inside."

Kurama only nodded in thanks and patted the professor on the shoulder when she turned questioningly to him. "I'll join you shortly inside."

He sidestepped to let them pass and started the motorbike after taking the professor's helmet, rounding the corner to slip into the side alley and the back gate. Shizuru was quick and had already left it open. He parked the motorbike next to the fence and spiked the thorny bougainvillea dangling from the concrete fence to grow and hide the vehicle effectively.

Confident that no one would find the motorbike without looking for it, he proceeded to lock the gate and jogged up the winding stone pathway to the backdoor. He immediately found the professor sitting with her hands held by Yukina as Shizuru poured a steady stream of lukewarm water to wash the wounds. The sound of glass on steel echoed in the silent kitchen as Yukina dislodged one of the shards that had been sitting in the professor's palms and let it fall into the basin quickly filled up with bloodied wash water.

Shizuru was the first one to notice his entrance. "Kurama, could you sub me? I need to get some towels."

This sent the professor snapping from her blank staring at Yukina's work, eliciting a sharp hiss. Yukina had apparently been taken aback from her sudden movement and put too much pressure, immediately bowing in apology.

"It's okay, Yukina-san," said the professor, throwing a glare towards Kurama's way. "It's all good."

"I'm sorry," Kurama said belatedly, walking to them and taking the pot from Shizuru who jogged away as soon as he did. Even though her display of upset wasn't solicited, he didn't complain and tried to appease her, convinced that she needed a new level of understanding under the circumstances that they found themselves in. "Are you all right, Professor?"

She didn't look at him but spoke nonetheless. "I'm okay."

"Kurama-san, please pour the water," said Yukina politely.

Kurama acquiesced and Yukina gently wiped with her fingers the blood that started oozing from where she'd taken out the shards of glass.

A set of footsteps alerted them that Shizuru was back. "What's happening, Kurama? Where are the others?"

She stood next to them, holding out the towels for Yukina to take and dry the professor's hands with. Kurama removed the basin from the countertop and emptied it through the sink, washing it with some water and soap.

"The others took care of another attack. We found a scientist dead in the professor's apartment—"

From his periphery, he saw her perk up and turn to cut him off. "He wasn't dead, Kurama. He wasn't."

The two of them looked at each other while the other two people in the room stood to watch. Kurama decided to turn away from the professor's haunting eyes that were both angry and blank.

"I correct myself. He was impaled and we found him before he died. Some of the half-demons attacked us and she was injured."

Aoshi still hadn't taken her eyes away from him and when he caught them, she seemed to be more aware now that he had chosen to leave out certain details, like they were their own little secret.

While he was perfectly sure their companions would be able to tell anyway.

"Professor," said Yukina in her small voice, "I'm going to heal your wounds now. This shouldn't hurt."

Aoshi turned to watch without the usual restrained zeal he saw whenever something fascinating was happening in front of her eyes. Yukina's hands began to glow softly, the blue light reflected on their faces.

"What do you plan to do?" asked Shizuru, lighting up a cigarette.

He dried his hands with a dish towel and leaned on the sink. "I'll have to speak with the others."

"We're not going to run to Genkai's, are we?"

Kurama looked at the professor from the corner of his eyes. She didn't seem to be listening as she now conversed in hushed tones with Yukina, too weak to show anything akin to enthusiasm at the sight of the supernatural but unable to do away with her curiosity.

"I guess it wouldn't be surprising if we did," he said.

"How convenient."

o-o

Chiaki had to flex her hands again and again in front of her face. In the small light coming from the noon sun, her hands looked whole with no trace of the wounds that she had inflicted on herself.

She had touched his face back in that room. He was covered in broken glass and blood. Face, neck, chest, feet. Everywhere she looked at him, he was nipped in one form or another. Broken and never going to be whole again.

But even in his deathbed he was the same person she loved. Every single piece of him was a piece she adored and resented and forgave. Every single one was a piece of him that she wanted to memorize, even when they never amounted to what he was as a whole. He was the Isamu whom she accepted to be her life partner, the Isamu she promised to be with for the rest of her imperfect life.

But now he was just… dead.

And even the last reminder of how his wounded face felt to her—painful, cold, bloodied—were gone.

Her hands were healed, without a single scar.

But her heart… she wondered if it would still heal when it had been trampled on so many times in the past.

And if it did heal, would she still afford to love someone as much as she loved Isamu?

o-o

"The professor's in the guest room," Shizuru announced as soon as all of them had gathered in the kitchen.

Yukina had attended to the others who sported various cuts as soon as they arrived from G&P but Kurama had declined, healing for himself.

Botan had taken the seat by the counter, a cup of tea held by her hands as she stared blankly into space, isolated from the rest of them. Finding Urawa's body in the state that they had left it and escorting his soul must have winded her. On top everything, she was forbidden to open her lips when she must be brimming with the desire to share whatever it was that they had talked about.

When they had probably talked about his love for Aoshi, his last request… his assault.

He was made the reluctant narrator of what had occurred at Aoshi's apartment, not leaving out anything that Urawa had uttered before he died that he deemed necessary.

"He was also mouthing words to her. He said, 'Check. Book. Clues.'"

"Wow, was he cryptic," said Yusuke and Keiko elbowed him in the ribs.

"He was dying and he saved his last breath to give you clues, Yusuke! How could you take for granted his last words?"

" _Suki."_

Kurama corrected Keiko mentally. Even in his death, he remembered to remind the professor that he loved her.

It was moving, something so human, he realized long after his passing.

But he was distracting himself.

"He was probably referring to Yamamoto's book. We still have to speak with the professor." He was met with a series of agreement but he quickly added, "However, I believe now is not the right time to talk to her about it."

"What do we do now?" asked Kuwabara. "I'm sure as hell that the professor would have to hide."

"Not to mention the new breed of half-demons can now control both reiki and youki," said Yusuke. "We need to meet with Enki and Koenma. And Yomi and Mukuro."

Hiei harrumphed and smirked, for the first time reacting in any form.

"Grandma's place could use some visitors," said Yusuke in an attempt to lighten the mood. "We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

Kurama was positive not everyone liked the idea, but it was a necessity.

o-o

" _Nee-chan!"_

 _The sound of steel against asphalt coupled with breaking glass. A sharp drawing of breath. Sobbing._

" _Nee-chan! Don't leave!"_

Chiaki woke with a start, drenched in sweat. She hadn't dreamt of him in a long while. Come to think of it, she hadn't dreamt of him in years.

She dreamt of someone else when Isamu—

 _Isamu was dead._

Chiaki twisted in the semi-darkness. Turning to the window, she saw that half the moon had risen. It was a cloudless night.

She didn't know what time it was, but she felt it was night time. How long had she been asleep?

"Professor, are you awake?"

It was the redhead. His silhouette was seen through the material of the door, a dark figure standing in clear contrast with the light out in the hallway.

"Would you join us for dinner? Shizuru had just finished cooking."

She hesitated; she wasn't in the mood for food. But she didn't want to be a terrible guest. She would also have to know what happened to the others.

She was heartbroken but it wasn't like she'd had her heart broken the first time only today. She survived the first times and she would survive this. She was grieving, and she would grieve in her own way.

Lacking the strength to stand up, she struggled to make it to the door and slide it open. Kurama was standing with his hands in his pockets, his lips neither in a smile or a frown.

"How long was I out?" she asked. She must look terrible.

"A couple of hours," said Kurama, gesturing for her to follow. "By that I mean we were able to convene, break up, and reconvene."

She reached out to fix her bun. "You've spoken with the others?"

"Yes," he said. He paused as they stepped on the bottom landing, turning to her with his head cocked slightly to the side. "But don't worry. I haven't told anyone. By the way, I asked Botan to pack more clothes from your apartment. She brought your laptop as well. They're in the cabinet in your room."

She didn't know what to say and he left it at that.

They proceeded to the dining area and found the rest of the team gathered about the table, their chat cut off as soon as they saw her. It was a deafening silence, shattered by the scraping of a chair on the wooden floor.

"Professor!" said Botan, going up to her and giving her a hug that effectively knocked the wind out of her.

This gesture took Chiaki aback, as though something else other than relief brought it about. It wasn't that she thought of Botan any less than a friend, but her embrace felt too tight and—

Chiaki's tears suddenly fell and she buried her face into the ferry girl's shoulder.

"Did he put you up to this?" she whispered against the fabric of her shirt.

Botan only tightened her hug.

Chiaki took it as a yes.

o-o

It took a while before Aoshi was able to recover from the series of condolences that were offered. It took a while before she could consume her share of food. It took more than coaxing to make her see the reason behind their sudden exile to a place she had never heard of before.

Kurama was surprised that she was able to argue with them regarding the plan despite the awkward start of the evening. She made it seem like she was all right when she still had to have a good cry about her loss.

But he didn't hear anything from her. The morning after, before it became too bright to be inconspicuous in the streets, their group headed for the bus terminal in a tight knot. The professor didn't separate from the girls who were occupied with trying to talk her to forgetting even momentarily.

"Is there another reason you keep looking her way, fox?" asked Hiei as the bus went through a tunnel, rendering the glass window a reflective surface to see his seatmate's smirking face with.

Kurama closed his eyes and leaned onto the backrest. Aoshi was seated by the window across from them, already asleep.

"I don't need to answer that, Hiei."

"Is she a prospect?"

Shiori's voice on the phone rang in his ears once more. He had called his mother as soon as he woke up to tell her that they would be away for a while. She readily burst into tears and he had to reassure her that everything was fine.

At least for now.

" _Take care of yourself. Remember what I told you."_

"I don't have an answer to that, Hiei."

He heard his seatmate scoff. "Whatever you say."

Kurama had dozed off, and he woke to the motion of the bus stopping at the next terminal. Their group quickly disembarked and were greeted by the mid-morning summer sun.

"I'm starving," said Yusuke, already sweating from the heat in the open area.

He was met with a chorus of approval and they all headed for the cafeteria. They took the largest table in a corner and rid themselves of their baggage, letting Yusuke and Kuwabara take their orders.

Kurama sat next to Aoshi who automatically scooted farther along the bench next to Botan. She had already taken off her jacket, her skin exposed through her white sleeveless shirt. She busied to put her hair made unruly from sleep in a messy bun all the way to the top of her head.

Hiei sat across from him, eyebrow raised.

Kurama ignored him, a bit dejected for the trouble that his silent friend was going through just to insinuate something as detestable as taking advantage of a woman in grief.

"Are we going to see Jin and Chu?" asked Kuwabara between bites of his gyudon.

"They live there, stupid," said Yusuke.

Aoshi paused from drinking her iced coffee. "Who're Jin and Chu?"

"Oh, you'll meet them soon, Professor. They're fun people," said Yusuke, grinning

"And 'fun' is what, exactly?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at them.

"I'd bet they're throwing a drinking party."

"Which is totally unacceptable!" said Botan, wagging a finger in front of the best friends. "We need to speak with Koenma and Enki."

"I know that. But have you ever tried to talk some sense to a drunk?"

"And have you ever tried catching the wind?" Kuwabara added.

The two men busted out laughing and they were met with disapproving glances from the other diners occupying tables in their immediate vicinity.

The professor didn't bother with pretense. "I don't get it," she said, finishing her pitiful meal of coffee and bread. "But whatever. I'll get our tickets while you finish that up."

"Do you have money on you?" asked Keiko.

She was already standing up, swinging her legs to get out of the bench. "Yeah, Yukimura. Don't worry," she said, nodding.

"I'm coming with you," said Shizuru, wiping her lips with a paper napkin. "We'll meet you there."

"One of the boys must come with you," said Botan.

"Botan, do you honestly think they're stupid to attack in a place like this?" said Shizuru, inclining her head as a warning. "We'll be fine."

The two of them took their bags and ambled away without another word.

Botan huffed, crossing her arms along her chest. "Get that, boys? Drinking and partying while someone is grieving? Just how insensitive can you be?"

"What was Urawa to her anyway?" Yusuke turned to Kurama, completely ignoring Botan but understanding her drift. "Do you know?"

Kurama felt Botan looking his way, her eyes wide. There was a glimmer in them, pleading that he spilled what she was dying to say but was not allowed to.

He understood Botan's inner turmoil, but it was never their story to tell.

"All I know is that they're close friends."

"So he's her boyfriend."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that." When Yusuke opened his mouth to say something else, Kurama added in haste, "I rest my case."

It effectively put an end to the topic.

o-o

"Wow, they're taking their time," said Kuwabara. No, Shizuru. The situation Chiaki found herself in was difficult. Now that she knew two Kuwabara's, she was having a hard time.

Kuwabara Kazuma would always be the first Kuwabara to her.

The two of them were smoking by the entrance to the train station, waiting for the rest of the group to join them.

Chiaki couldn't care less about the boys. She didn't want to be pissed but she was livid anyway. How they could joke about drinking and partying while she was feeling low was beyond her comprehension.

Well, she wasn't trying to act important and mighty, but couldn't she at least mourn properly?

So yes, she was asking for special attention, after all.

"They're rude and tactless, I know."

"But that's what makes them boys," Chiaki finished, letting the smoke rise from her nostrils. "I understand and I'm not in the position to complain either."

Shizuru chuckled, cigarette on her lips. "Why do you say that? Because you're new to all this and you've signed up by choice?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"And because you had to take everything that goes with it."

Chiaki didn't agree to that. But she didn't disagree either. She was the one who asked for help when she wanted answers that they, ironically and conveniently, required, too. And now that she was in trouble and needed protecting, she must put up with everything that came with this mayhem.

"But you don't have to be always nice about it," Shizuru continued, smiling. "If you want to be a bitch, be a bitch. They would never have to know why. It's one of our self-entitlements as women."

"Let them suffer and keep thinking we're having PMS over and over," said Chiaki.

The two of them looked at each other and exploded in a laughing fit.

"You have a sadistic streak, Professor," said Shizuru, wiping her face to compose herself.

"You can say that," Chiaki said, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

They were silent for a while, given the lack of anything else to talk about. Chiaki racked her head of other things that she could start a conversation with, eager to know this stranger who shared her drug.

"How do you deal with it?" she asked, rubbing at her nose.

"Deal with what my brother's doing?" Shizuru said. "Well, if you're born with a heightened awareness, you'd have to live with it every day. I guess Kazu just had to make it worse when he decided to grow up and be more responsible."

Chiaki's jaw dropped. She turned to the straw-haired woman she was betting to be at least thirty years old. "You're a psychic?"

"Unfortunately," she said. "Well, not exactly. At least I get to see what my brother sees and take care of him better lest his idiocy made it too difficult for him."

" _Nee-chan!"_

Chiaki's heart was beating miles per minute as the conversation fetched a distant memory buried in the deepest recesses of her brain.

To be able to take care of a younger sibling all her life… Chiaki was suddenly brimming with envy.

"I sense you can see them, too," she said, effectively pulling Chiaki from her reverie.

"I just see them. I can't do anything else other than that, but it still gave me quite a fright a lot of times when I was younger. Though I think I should thank the gods. I don't notice them that much now," said Chiaki, waving her cigarette in the air as if to point out the silvery entities hovering about. "It's as if I got used to their presence everywhere I go."

"It would take some getting used to, too. Being with the guys and all," said Shizuru.

Chiaki couldn't have said it any better.

"But trust me, they won't drop you."

When the rest of the group finally made it to the train, Chiaki made sure to sit next to her Woman of the Hour even though they wouldn't be able to talk too loudly the whole ride.

o-o

After another bus transfer, the nine of them finally set foot in the familiar territory. It was just as they remembered, even from the foot of the hundred-step stairs lined with forest trees and adorned with enchantments and wards that flickered even in the sunlight.

"Are you kidding me?" Aoshi whispered, squinting at the sight, trying to make out the property on top of the stone steps.

"Nope," said Yusuke who crouched to offer a ride to Keiko.

"Okay, Hiei," said Kuwabara, appearing ten times taller than the fire demon. "You take care of my Yukina."

Hiei didn't respond before carrying the ice maiden bridal-style and dashing up the stairs without waiting for the rest. Yusuke and Keiko took off after him while Kuwabara took everyone else's extra luggage before walking away with his sister who refused his offer next to him.

"Is this a ritual?" asked Aoshi, incredulous.

"We do it to save time. Most of us are fast runners," Kurama explained. When Aoshi didn't respond, he swallowed, trying to appear cool. "Shall we?"

She looked at him. "I think I can take the walk. You should take Botan."

"Oh no, Professor, I'm all right!" She conjured her oar. "See you at the top!" she said before whizzing by and away.

Aoshi only stared agape as the flying ferry girl became smaller by the second. "This is insane," she said, blowing at the wayward lock of hair that escaped her bun. "Honestly speaking, I don't want to take your offer but that wouldn't get you out of my hair fast. I can do some exercise but I'm not crazy to jog up that many steps when I'm sure I'll shrivel up like a prune. I can't take another blow at my femininity by feeding your ego through acquiescing to this offer disguised as chivalry but I don't want to look stupid and ridiculous. So, okay, I'm trusting you not to drop me and not break a sweat."

Kurama fought back a snicker. She was rambling, and he could see through her front. "I will not drop you, Professor, make no mistake."

After eyeing him levelly, she slung her rucksack securely behind her back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed his hands under her knees and hoisted her up.

"Are you sure it's okay?" she said close to his ear, her breath smelling strongly of tobacco.

He didn't turn his head. "Yes, Professor. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"All right, then."

He started running and the feeling of having someone on his back as he jogged up the familiar steps came off as alien. The inevitable tightening of her hold, instinctive wrapping of her legs around his waist in fear of being blown away and her face buried in his hair. Everything surprised him, and even as he'd expected all these from her, he almost lost his balance.

But he didn't, and soon enough, they were on the top landing, the others waiting.

"Professor, you can let go," he said, straining to see her eyes closed and the side of her face pressed to his hair.

"We're still running!" she said.

Kurama suppressed a laugh as everyone else. "We're not. Anymore, that is. You can now let go."

It took a while before she heeded his advice and set her feet on the stone path. She said her thanks under her breath, too ashamed for having panicked. Kurama only smiled. He'd seen many instances of the professor's weaknesses and they all made her seem more human.

"Oi, Jin, open up!" Yusuke yelled at the towering wooden gates.

Several birds took flight just as the trees rustled with the sudden gust of wind. The gates creaked and swung open, revealing the huge temple and the front lawn. Another gust of wind and Yusuke was sent catapulting inside and face-first onto the grass.

High, ringing laughter echoed through the garden and Aoshi was heard saying, "So this is what fun's like. Greeting your guests by sending one of them flying in the air and getting a good laugh about it."

"Hiya, fellas! Great teh see all' yeh!"

Aoshi jumped higher than she had ever jumped before as Jin came zipping in front of her, feet crossed in the air. She was the picture of fright, a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.

He bowed to the professor. "Welcome teh Genkai's abode. Name's Jin, wha's yers?"

Her face scrunched up in concentration to comprehend the rapid, accented speech from the wind tamer but managed to introduce herself.

"JIN! THAT HURT, YOU BASTARD!"

Jin uttered a quick, "'Scuse me, madam, got teh run," before levitating himself and whooshing away from Yusuke who was charging toward him.

"Just where am I?" Aoshi whispered more to herself than anyone else.

o-o

After another round of introductions to demons that she didn't know would be co-inhabiting with them for the length of their stay, Chiaki was at her wit's end.

The drunk Chu kept on insisting that she joined him and Botan had to use her oar to put him to sleep. Rinku the perpetually young demon was running around playing pranks with the perpetually egoistic Suzuki. And while Shishiwakamaru and Touya sat still in their respective corners, she couldn't shake Jin and his constant talking in the dialect that she found hard to process.

Urameshi should have put him to sleep, but even the team leader was no match to Jin's speed without using his powers that could blow the whole temple to bits—as Kuwabara attested to. And so after the windy welcome, they just ran around the yard, chasing each other with Urameshi occasionally throwing an attack as light as Jin's.

Men's perception of fun was too much for her.

"So yer a scientist?" the demon was now asking. "D'yeh know why—"

"Jin, I think that's enough for now," said Botan. "Let the professor rest. She's had a long day."

Chiaki turned to the red-haired, single-horned demon to apologize but he only grinned at her and Botan, patting Chiaki on the shoulder.

"Aw, tha's a'yt wi' me. Yeh go, Professeh, I'm gonna see yeh lateh!"

"Oh, okay," Chiaki said before Botan whisked her from the sitting room.

Botan didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space—she held onto Chiaki's arm like her life depended on it. She maneuvered the two of them to the west wing, stopping in front of the room three doors down to their right.

She slid open the door, shouting, "Ta-da!" Chiaki craned her neck without moving from her position to get a better look at the room designated as hers for the duration of this stay. It was small with four and a half mats yet didn't feel cramped at all, fit for a single person.

Chiaki looked to her left and right. The whole stretch of the hallway they were standing on to the end of the opposite wing was lined with numerous doors.

"Botan, how many people are living here, exactly?" Chiaki asked as she entered the empty room and sat on the floor, opening her bags.

The blue-haired ferry girl sat next to her after sliding the door closed. "We're the only ones occupying the rooms right now, including Jin and the others. But from time to time other apparitions would come seeking refuge."

Chiaki unpacked her things and placed them beside her. "It's a sanctuary."

"Uh-huh!" said Botan, helping her fold the clothes that she had tossed inside the rucksack without exactly thinking the day before. "Genkai left this property to us asking that we put it to good use."

It was a neutral ground for humans and demons and apparitions to coexist. More than a month ago, she would have never thought this was possible even with the occasional news she considered gaffes and blunder most of the time.

But now nothing seemed impossible anymore.

"I'm sorry about the guys. They're rowdy as usual."

Chiaki smiled at Botan. "Don't apologize, you don't have to."

Botan returned the smile with one of her own. "You'll make fast friends with them, I'm sure."

Chiaki saw no need to say anything to her after that.

"I guess I'll leave you here then, Professor. You go get some rest."

"I'll join you later to help out with dinner."

Botan left, closing the door behind her as she went. Chiaki was left alone, placing what she was able to take with her in the small cabinet that occupied one corner of the room. She left the window slightly open before lying on the futon she found next to the cabinet.

It was an insane day, but at least for now she was surrounded with people she could be safe with. She couldn't properly mourn the way she wanted to with the lack of expediency in behaving that way under the present circumstances, but she couldn't lament their presence and the situation either.

With the sense of urgency of the matter and Isamu's sudden passing, she felt full and empty at the same time. It was nothing like she'd felt before, not even ten years ago.

She wondered if she'd used up all of the luck that she was born with for this to happen to her again. For someone to leave her again. Alone and heartbroken.

A tear escaped her eye and she wiped at it hastily. She'd had enough crying to last her a year.

 _God, Chiaki, you have to stop._

 _But he's gone._

 _He's never coming back and you have to do something to make sure his death wouldn't be in vain._

 _I need to avenge him._

 _Not by killing someone else. You're not that low._

 _How then?_

 _I dunno. You're a smart, independent woman, aren't you? So quit this pathetic excuse for slacking and show them you're reliable in the face of jackshit._

Chiaki opened her eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling. She was right. At least the voice in her head was.

She'd recently been talking to herself more often than she liked. God, was she in a pickle.

 _I'm a strong, smart, independent woman. I'm a strong, smart, independent woman._

With a sudden resolve to do things right, she got up despite feeling weak, no surer than she was a moment prior of what course of action to take. But she should try to empty her mind in order to make clearer her thinking process.

 _I am a strong, smart, independent, reliable woman. I am a strong, smart, independent, reliable woman._

She stood up. She jumped up and down. She jogged in place. She punched in the air.

 _I am a strong, smart, independent, reliable, capable woman._

"I AM A STRONG, SMART, INDEPENDENT, RELIABLE, AND CAPABLE WOMAN!" she yelled, jogging faster and jumping higher in the air, even when her lungs felt like giving out.

 _I should quit smoking._

"Professor?"

Chiaki whipped her head to see Kurama's face in the open window, his eyes bearing a question for the woman in mid-air.

And Chiaki landed on the matted floor, wobbling on her knees. "Yes?" she asked, barely audible from the lack of oxygen in the suddenly suffocating room.

"Are you all right?"

She released a breath. God, she needed a cigarette. She ran to the cabinet and slid it open, finding her box of deathsticks. What was she honestly thinking when she jogged and jumped like she didn't smoke five sticks a day?

 _Wait, I shouldn't even be smoking._

 _But I need to relax._

"I'm fine," she said, puffing out smoke at the rate her chest rose and fell. Sweat dribbled from her forehead to her neck, and she felt clammy all over.

She should have stopped smoking right there and then. Her breathing didn't even out. She started coughing. Her hands were trembling.

But she had to relax.

A cigarette would let her relax.

"Professor, I think you should stop smoking that stick."

Chiaki covered her mouth as she dissolved into a coughing mess. The red-haired demon was right. What was she honestly thinking?

"I. Am. Fine," she said anyway, after every cough.

"You're not. I'll get Yukina for you."

"DON'T!" Yukina couldn't make her feel whole again. Chiaki would not let it happen. "There's no need," she amended after seeing the surprise on Kurama's face.

Chiaki finished the stick and wrapped the butt with paper from her rucksack after much struggling. The coughing didn't come to a stop until after a while of doubling over and gasping for much-needed air but her throat felt raw and bleeding.

"Do you need someone to talk to?"

She looked at the redhead, surprised that he was still standing outside her window. His eyes were dark in the afternoon sun, but there was no pity in them, just a neutral shade of green.

Did she need someone to talk to right now?

"No, I'm fine." She lied.

"I see. I'll leave you alone, then."

The redhead turned to go. Then he hesitated.

"What you were shouting earlier, I just want you to know that I believe it's true."

 _I am a strong, smart, independent, reliable, and capable woman._

She looked at him again. He was now smiling. It was not the happy type of smile, but a consoling one.

Suddenly the tears came.

o-o

She was openly crying to him, her knees giving out under her. His chest started fluttering in panic, and he supressed the desire to shuffle in his feet, not exactly sure what he would do.

Should he vault the window and sit next to her?

Should he run and ask someone else to console her?

Oh, he hated this.

Aoshi was wiping at her tears and looked away from him. "Don't look at me."

"Ah, I won't. I'm not," he said hastily, panicked at the way she sounded in command.

"You can see me."

It wasn't a dismissal, and he didn't know what else to do. He turned his back to her and sat down on the grass below her window.

Of all the things that he could come up with, he chose to sit outside as though it would placate her anxiety toward being seen as she lost control and finally cried. She needed someone to talk to, he was quite sure of it, and although it was an impulsive decision in his part, he hoped she would at least appreciate this gesture in exchange for being terrible yesterday while she dealt with her shock at their assault.

Laughter ensued from the room. He must have really looked like a fool.

"What are you doing?"

"I won't see you crying this way."

Silence descended upon the two of them anew. Kurama didn't fully understand why he was doing this—why he was putting up with her when he could have thrown his care in the air—, but the professor needed help even if she denied it.

It was probably presumptive in his end, but Kurama felt partly responsible for Urawa's passing. He was the only one in this temple who knew of his relationship with the professor besides Botan. Given that the grim reaper was forbidden from opening her mouth even when she wished to, he felt that he should offer a hand to the professor.

Believing this truth, he only concerned himself with the effect her temperament would have on the investigation. She needed to be well before she could meet their superiors.

He knew Youmi and Mukuro would frown on her if she continued to be catatonic. Koenma and Enki had a lot more patience, but he lacked confidence they would allow her to stall the mission when it was now of this gravity.

When he saw her through this window as he was walking outside, he surmised she was probably having a terrible fit. But when he heard her cheering herself, he'd wanted to make sure she believed in it.

He'd seen his share of humans breaking from loss, and he wasn't about to sacrifice their mission with the professor's fragility finally taking over her.

At least that was what he wanted to believe in.

He must have gone really soft.

She hadn't even had a good cry about Urawa's death. He'd been with her since the last attack, even requesting to stand guard outside the room she occupied the night before. He never heard her crying, not even when she took a last look at him. Knowing how she valued the man for all that he was worth, she must be brimming and in the verge of snapping if her earlier display wasn't any indication.

She must get a hold of herself.

"I think it's so unfair," she said out of the blue, her trembling voice carrying through the silence of this part of the temple. "He tells me he loves me and then dies on me."

Kurama didn't dare speak. His heart was suddenly fluttering with her confidence to finally confide in him.

She sniffed. "He was a great man. Admirable in his work as a scientist, intelligent and handsome to boot. Of course I didn't give a care about it at first—I was too absorbed in trying to prove my worth as a scientist, too happy about my line of work. Until he actually asked me out."

He just listened, trying not to imagine the smile on her tear-stained face while no longer repressing the memories resurfacing from the past.

"At first I didn't like him. He was as every bit obnoxious six years ago as he was yesterday. Too full of himself, he liked to make fun of his junior colleagues including me. I was careful not to snap and give in to his taunting, but one day I decided enough was enough."

She chuckled, not stopping for a good minute.

He tried but failed seeing her talking Urawa down.

"Then the next thing I knew, he was crazy about me. Head over heels and crazily in love with me. It was flattering and he didn't give up pursuing me."

He heard her shuffle and light up another cigarette.

"That man never failed to make me feel that he was proud of me for being who I was. He placed so much confidence in me, happy that I was just as capable as he was, if not more."

She paused, and he heard her taking a long drag from her cigarette and blowing out the smoke with a heavy sigh.

"He was the first man who didn't think of me as a competition. I inspired him to do better, not because he wanted to be better than I was but because he wanted me to feel confident in him as a man, as a partner… and as a husband. He asked for my hand. Of course I said yes. I loved him more than anyone else in the world."

A voice in the back of his head told Kurama this wasn't supposed to be conversed between the two of them. But it was too late to leave and not hear all of it.

Another pause. She drew a sharp breath.

"I thought I'd finally been successful in placing my trust in a man but then he suddenly asked me how I did it."

 _Do what?_ He wanted to ask, but he didn't.

"He asked me how I earned merit to become the esteemed Yamamoto's second-in-command. If I had to sleep with the old man who was twice my age," she said hastily, as if she didn't want him to hear it. "What a freaking cunt. He didn't trust me enough. Not even when we were about to get married. What a freaking cunt."

She continued without pausing, and he heard her voice breaking. She was crying again.

"And just when I thought I did it right by breaking up with him and leaving him to rot with his pride, he would tell me he was sorry and that he was stupid and that he loved me. Just before dying on me."

Kurama could almost see her gritting her teeth in an attempt to control the tears welling up from her still swollen eyes.

"And it's so unfair! He was so unfair! I could have loved him again if only he said he that he was sorry! I could have forgiven him and mend what was broken if only he'd let me! But he didn't!

"He was so unfair. He couldn't swallow his pride and own up to what he did wrong and he refused to let me love him again when I never stopped. He was so stupid, a coward. And I'm so stupid for not learning to hate him for that. I hate myself for it. I hate myself for not seeing it."

And then she stopped. She just cried quietly, drawing sharp breaths as though doing so would help her not to break into a million pieces in a room no one would dare enter, not even Kurama.

He struggled for words when she had said so much. He suddenly pitied himself for not being able to comfort her properly. Women were difficult and the professor was more so. He'd seen enough of her to know that she was as complicated as she liked them to think without pretending otherwise.

If only he could come up with something to tell her…

If only he could offer perspective…

 _Of course, he could._

"Professor," he spoke, softly but loud enough for her to hear.

She sniffed again. "What is it?"

"I don't understand how you feel right now and I wouldn't make you feel better by trying to put myself in your shoes. I don't know him that well and it's not my place to say this but from what I gathered from everything that has happened, I think I know what he could have been thinking when you appeared to him as an employee, when he was granted the chance to be beside you again."

She didn't say anything. It was his time to speak, he surmised.

"He kept you at a distance because of the fact that he didn't want you to be involved with him any more than with the alliance that he regretted to be part of. He had fallen in too deep and he wouldn't want you to commit the same mistake and suffer like he did, like Yamamoto did. He wanted to chase you away and protect you.

"But when he finally realized that you are working for the other side, he learned it was too late for the two of you to reconcile."

"He could've asked for my help!"

"You know him better than I do and you said he was a proud man. If there was one thing that he would have regretted, it was not letting go of that pride and asking for the help of someone whom he knew he'd hurt deeply."

There was silence. Kurama recoiled, surprised that he could be saying this as though he perfectly understood the man he barely knew.

"He was a proud man and even in the last hours of his life he only thought of protecting you, of helping you instead. He believed he was a hopeless case. Yes, he was wrong to not trust that he could still be saved, but he was right to have trusted your cause for choosing a side.

"He believed in you, Professor. He made the mistake of doubting you in the past but he tried to make it right in the only way he could without losing his pride as a man. I don't expect you to forgive him for being a prideful coward but believe me, he only cared for you."

He didn't know if it was enough to make her realize Urawa's sacrifice but it was all that he could offer. He was afraid to go near her when she made it obvious that she didn't want him to see her while she broke down. He wasn't comfortable with the thought, either.

He released a silent sigh, feeling that he was at his limit after that speech. He was never made to angst over the matters of the human heart that was fragile and easily broken, something that had absolute reign on their actions. He was analytic and he saw things matter-of-factly.

In this game of chess that they played, allowing her emotions to take control of her actions would only put the professor in danger. He wouldn't consent to it, and that was why he was there, sitting on the almost dried grass, bathing in the afternoon sun.

And even if she decided to continue crying after she mulled his piece, he would walk away and let her be. She was fragile but she was level-headed, two different things that were too much for him in a single day.

Women were difficult after all.

Aoshi Chiaki was no exception.

As he rose from his perch and left her without turning back, Kurama wondered if he should have asked for one of the girls to talk to her in his stead.

* * *

A/N: I know! This is awfully fast! But I have so much time in my hands and I can't stop writing. I've put this on hold for too long because of college and undergrad thesis so I have to make up for it.

This chapter is kinda heavy, I know, but Chiaki needs time to mourn and be upset, right? It's Urawa we're talking about, and I just had to have Kurama console her. It felt off, but it was what I wanted the whole scene to feel like. Awkward but touching in a way. Haha.

And a clue to her past, yes? And more demons, yay! Jin gave me a headache, somehow. I still can't wrap my head around his accent. It was a Japanese dialect in the original anime and was substituted with Irish accent in the English dub so it was quite the challenge.

* Japanese room area is usually expressed in the number of tatami mats used for its flooring.

So did you like the chapter? Tell me by leaving a review! Thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts and faves and especially those who left reviews in the previous chappie!

See you soon!


	14. V - Anti-Patriarchy

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part V

 _"You're not going to impose the patriarchal paradigm on me."_

― John Green, _Looking for Alaska_

o-o

 _Anti-Patriarchy_

Chiaki let the knife fall back on the wooden chopping board, handing the cut vegetables in a bowl to Shizuru who stood in front of the stove. Keiko and Botan finished setting up the table while Yukina was busy tidying up the soiled kitchenware.

There was no sign of the men in this particular part of the household, their voices heard from the seemingly distant "recreational area" (Kuwabara's words, not hers). By recreation, he meant spending the afternoon seated in front of the game console and drinking and wrestling.

Once, they raced each other outside and left dirt in the hallways, much to Shizuru's chagrin.

Chiaki volunteered to clean up after the little kids, determined to keep herself as occupied as possible.

Now, she was helping make dinner with what they were able to find in the pantry that had more empty than stocked shelves—Keiko had grumbled under her breath that in being irresponsible, human and demon males didn't differ a teeny bit.

They would be meeting the higher-ups the day after tomorrow during lunch, she was informed, and Botan hadn't stopped whining about having to do early morning shopping if they wished to be done before sunset.

That it was a welcome distraction, Chiaki didn't say. She was itching to do something to get her rhythm back, and busying with the smallest task was a chance she jumped right at.

Kurama was right; she gave him that much credit. She was thankful for his gesture, something that she never expected from him. He came off as extremely business-like to the point of being unabashedly rude to her personal feelings and motives, but this new side to him that he let her see made her feel better somehow.

He was calm and collected, almost like someone who refused to be attached to himself and to others. Chiaki couldn't place it, but he was too cool for his own good, like he'd put himself on a pedestal not to be awed by all but merely to hinder people from reaching him.

But he offered her help when she needed it. It took her a while to process everything, that the words he'd uttered were matter of fact. She didn't know how long she tried convincing herself that he was right when he'd sounded like a boring teacher who spoke wisdom and truth that you would just have to listen to by virtue of insights gained.

He was so painfully detached.

And Chiaki surmised she could afford to be just as detached in order to face the truth and live with it. That Isamu was dead and would never come back. That she loved him and he loved her but they were not meant to be. That all she needed was a few more tears, a swollen pair of reddened eyes, half a box of cigarettes, and vigorous mopping of a stained floor to be able to say that she could live with the truth and not be hampered by how painful it was. That she had to admit that he was gone. Forever.

That she loved him still and that he finally loved her right.

She would be detached to her loss just as Kurama was to the rest of the world, but she would hold onto the truth that she loved him just as Kurama held onto the merit in his work as an agent to the Reikai.

She would move forward.

"Do you need help?"

The five of them turned to the subject of her musing, his vibrant mane of red and smiling face jutting out of the slightly opened kitchen door.

"LEAVE," was their unanimous answer, the second time that evening.

o-o

Kurama affected a disappointed look, slid the door closed, and turned to Yusuke and Jin who were trying hard not to laugh. After hours of doing nothing productive, they had dared him to torment the already-irked ladies further.

Seeing that he wouldn't be any less of a man by humoring his friends and that it was a perfect avenue to finally leave them alone and help with dinner if he ever were given permission, he accepted.

But he failed again, and now his friends were more than satisfied to hear the women throwing anger his way.

"Man, that was too funny even though I expected it," said Yusuke, slinging an arm about Jin's shoulder and turning away to do something else while they waited for supper.

"Yeh'd think good boy Kurama'd get it righ' this time, huh?" Jin said, nodding his head of unruly red spikes.

Kurama easily tuned them out. He didn't know why he'd chosen to associate with people who didn't take life more seriously than he'd envisioned. He missed the days he made a living with colleagues who took their vocation hook, line, and sinker.

But then Yomi became vindictive and Kuronue met his end.

These reminders made Kurama feel much better about his present comrades with the slightest pang of guilt. What happened was a long time ago and he'd been granted his choice. Now he was left to live with it until he no longer saw his sedentary life a necessity.

Going back to his old ways once he'd exhausted his human life would be no walk in the park, but he could worry about it when he had to.

After about half an hour of ignoring his friends who fooled around a little more, Yukina called them to supper—probably owing to the fact that she was the most tolerant of the females in the household.

He first noticed Aoshi who passed around the long table one of the bowls of vegetable stew that they managed to prepare from the pantry's meagre content. She seemed better than when he left her hours ago, but her eyes could use more time before they could be restored to their normal size.

All the girls crowded on one end of the table while he was forced to sit next to Chu who could barely focus on the bowl in front of him.

"We're going to town tomorrow morning," said Shizuru just after they said their grace. "The pantry's in need of restocking."

"You can take me and Urameshi with you," said Kuwabara without second thought. "And Kurama, too. Forget about the shrimp."

Hiei grunted. "I never had any intention to volunteer, idiot."

"But I don't wanna," Yusuke said, shoving more rice into his mouth. "I'm sleeping in before the monkeys arrive and give me work."

"Master Koenma is no monkey!" said Botan, not failing to catch Yusuke's drift.

Shizuru waved a hand to silence the rowdy table. "Fine. We'll be leaving early, so make sure your lazy asses are up by six. Professor Aoshi and Keiko are coming with us."

Even though Kurama was opposed to the idea of the professor going out and wished to voice this out, he was met with a glare from the subject of his worry.

 _She'll be fine_ , was what he thought she was trying to tell him.

Dinner proceeded peacefully after that. Kurama insisted to clean up but Aoshi dragged him to a corner, much to his surprise.

"Hey, I need to speak to you about the clues Isamu gave us. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say and I thought you could help me," she said without preamble, without flinching at the mere mention of Urawa's name.

But he was grateful for her initiative anyway.

"I see. About that, Professor, I've meaning to tell you that I was able to read his lips. He was saying, 'Check. Book. Clues.'"

"Yamamoto's book then?" she said, lacking any form of hesitation as she massaged her temple. This alone confirmed Kurama's initial thought. "I remember he said something about a letter. A letter about Yamamoto and a book."

"And 'I to you'," Kurama said, remembering everything perfectly well. "Do you think he meant a letter he sent to you?"

"I don't know, I never received any letter from anyone of late," the professor said, shaking her head. She started tapping her feet. "Didn't he tell Botan anything?"

He shrugged. "Botan is forbidden—"

"I know that, it was a rhetorical question," she said, snapping at him. When she caught herself frowning, she waved her hands in front of her as if to erase the damage of her outburst. "I mean, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound bitchy."

"It's all right, Professor. I understand," said Kurama, openly lying. "Anyway, if you'd let me, Botan said Urawa's death was unscheduled."

"Another unprecedented death? Did they find out anything about the records?"

"Koenma's still looking into it. He promised to have a concrete report regarding them when we meet him."

"Well then, we should come up with something to help them with, shouldn't we?" Aoshi said without looking at him. "Could you meet me here in ten minutes? I'll just get Yamamoto's book and my journal."

Kurama nodded, pleased she was able to bounce back from her fall this fast.

Women were not exactly complicated. They were teeming with wonder. Aoshi was.

When they rendezvoused in the quiet kitchen and sat themselves next to each other on the now empty table, the rest of the group had dispersed and gone to attend to their own nightly businesses.

"Weird, I've inspected this book from cover to cover. I don't think I could've missed anything," Aoshi said, turning the book that was opened at a random page every which way as though it would convince him any further that she'd memorized the book in its entirety.

He offered an open palm, and after flitting through the pages of the book, she surrendered and let him take it.

He tried sniffing at it again, much to Aoshi's entertainment. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and threw caution to the wind, pressing his nostrils to the pages.

Old paper. Ink. Coffee. Agar. _Lotion. Lily-of-the-valley._

He put it down. Nothing was different. Perhaps they were looking in the wrong direction.

Aoshi buried her face in her hands in frustration. "Why don't we review?" she asked, her voice muffled as she refused to take her hands off her face.

"He clearly said every piece of evidence he had was taken from him."

She nodded, standing up and pacing. "And that there was a letter about the book that we suppose was addressed to me."

"We are not certain whether it had been delivered successfully or was taken as well."

She paused and crossed her arms, leaning on the counter. "But he said to check the book for clues."

"Perhaps I should read this too," said Kurama belatedly.

Aoshi was scowling at him. "Don't you trust me? If it was intended for anyone else to find, I would've found it already without your help!"

She plopped back down on her seat and snatched the book from his hold, furiously turning the pages. "Damn you, Yamamoto, damn you, Isamu," she said under her breath, seeming to have completely forgotten about her grief, overcome by a sense of urgency that she now felt once more.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Kurama.

"Professor, could you turn to the endpapers?"

She paused and looked at him, her eyebrows knitted. Without saying a word, she turned to the front endpapers and Kurama reached out, gliding his hand along the surface of the pastedown then the loose endpaper.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to _feel_ for anything out of the ordinary." He flipped to the next page and slid his fingers along the paper once more.

Aoshi stared at him, dumbfounded, and copied him, taking over the front pages while he took care from the other end.

Minutes passed and he ran over a depression somewhere along about the eleventh page from the back.

"I felt something," he said, trying not to sound too elated. He ran his fingers over the page again and felt the tiniest change in texture along the row of inked words. The professor let go and let him inspect it for himself.

There was a very small impression on the page, running over the handwritten characters at a completely different angle from the direction of the slightly pressed text. If only he could make it out…

The rubber of a pencil made its way to his line of vision and he looked at the professor.

"Where is it?" she asked, trying to sound unenthusiastic at his discovery.

"Over there," he said, rubbing his finger lightly over the impression. The professor gingerly applied graphite over the general area of the presumptive clue and they leaned in to see.

"Margin."

"Or edge," said Kurama.

"Or border."

They looked at each other. Aoshi burst out giggling, her still swollen eyes reduced to mere slits on her face, not stopping for a while that Kurama had to suppress himself from laughing along even when he felt quite relieved.

The two of them began applying broad pencil strokes over the margins of the pages with renewed vigor and soon enough, their fingers were discolored. Every page bore one or two very faint, almost inconspicuous characters, randomly placed along the margins. When they reached about the tenth page, Aoshi abandoned the "dirty job" in favor of writing down the characters on a page of her journal.

"What the hell are you doing?"

They looked up from their handiwork and found Yusuke with a look on his face that told Kurama they looked nothing like investigators trying to break a code. He looked at Aoshi's face just as she turned to inspect his.

They laughed again.

o-o

 _Chiaki,_

 _By the time you figure this out I would have already been gone for quite a time. I trusted Urawa would bring this to you just as I asked of him before they found me. I apologize for not telling you anything and I am very sorry for getting you and Urawa in trouble._

 _When I chose you to be my apprentice, I was convinced that I believed you were better than the two of us. You possessed more goodness and honest love for science than we do. You are intelligent and gifted with the right sort of sense, and I know you would choose the side I didn't. That we didn't._

 _We have been involved in something very awful, Chiaki. We are already in too deep, and I hope you would have the sensibility not to commit the same mistake. I hope you found people who could help you, and I hope Urawa did his final work as I requested._

 _This book is a testament to the sin I have committed. Urawa would have the records you need to understand why all this is happening. He would know when you need it and he would give it to you. Even if he dies for it._

 _I'm sorry._

 _But you must be warned, Chiaki. This is a serious and life-threatening endeavor, much bigger than what we have gone through together. It requires the right companions to overcome. Many of our ilk have died for it. Died regretting it._

 _Please do not fall into the abyss as we did, Chiaki. It is a tall order knowing how you must feel much betrayed now but I trust you wouldn't be as thick-headed as we were._

 _I wish you all the luck in the world, my child._

 _Yamamoto Koji_

She read the letter over again, aware that her tears were welling up from her still encrusted eyes. One traitorous bead dropped on the pencil-encoded characters, and she wiped at her face with her trembling hand.

Kurama and Urameshi were painfully quiet, unmoved from leaning over her shoulder to read the cracked code.

Her chest felt very heavy, as though it still held up despite the previous weight it was forced to carry in so short a time. Now, this confession was _too_ heavy to her liking.

"Professor?"

Panic overriding Kurama's voice alerted her that she was breathing too hard. She shook her head, willing him not to make a big deal out of her emotional stress. She was fine, she had been fine earlier. Any more heartbreak wouldn't kill her.

For these words to come from her mentor… Chiaki was overwhelmed with emotions she couldn't distinguish from one another, all taking the form of slush that sat in her stomach and refused to quit churning.

 _God_ , everything was because of that damned eagle. He'd calculated everything carefully and on top of it all, he placed so much trust in the two of them without leaving room for error.

But he couldn't have.

But he _did_.

He died knowing he would and he died knowing she would be seeking answers. He died knowing Isamu could die and he died with his unwavering trust that this time he'd calculated everything perfectly.

He died trusting that Isamu would fulfill his task and leave her the clues she needed to answer this mystery. He died knowing she wouldn't rest until she solved this problem.

He trusted her.

 _So quit being a baby._

Chiaki drew a sharp breath, straightening up and standing from her chair. She turned to Kurama and Urameshi, both startled and confused by her actions.

"It all makes sense now," she said, wiping her tears with her graphite-stained fingers. "Isamu was supposed to give me the records but he knew we were on it already. Someone else took the pages that we needed before we can get our hands on them."

"Dammit." Urameshi's fist landed on the table with a thud. "He could've been more forward when he had the chance."

"Oh, yeah, because he would just go with his gut feeling and come up to me and say, 'Hey, Chiaki, I've got something I can help you with'," Chiaki said, appalled by the detective's lack of sense.

Before Urameshi could open his mouth to retaliate, Kurama butted in.

"Please be reasonable, Yusuke. Professor Aoshi is right," he said, waving a hand to silence the detective. "Given that he only realized our intentions the same day we retrieved the evidence, he was left with no choice but to let us be. He never intended to lose the substantial pages that we needed. Someone else must have indeed taken them before we could."

"That can only mean one thing. They knew of Yamamoto's intentions—to send me against them," said Chiaki, turning to Kurama as further realization hit her. "It all ties up. They launched the final leg of the attacks in answer to the threat that we posed. While everyone else was busy, they tried to counter the foremost threat—that I end up finding out everything. And now I'm forced to hide, knowing they could kill me anytime."

"Now we need the names," said Urameshi, much more calmly.

Kurama fished out the compact communicator from his pocket. "I suggest calling Koenma's office."

 _God,_ they were the ones who received the zwischenzug.

o-o

"Fine, then, I'll see you," said Koenma before the monitor went black.

Kurama flipped it closed and Aoshi released a breath.

"Guess we'll just have to trust the boss this time, huh?" said Yusuke, getting up from his chair and stretching.

"And the human police," said Kurama. _If cases of missing scientists were reported, that is._

"They pulled the zwischenzug on us," said Aoshi, biting her lip with such pressure he could imagine her drawing blood from it. "They pulled it."

Kurama could only bow his head in the irony of the situation as Yusuke tried making sense of the word alien to him.

"I can't believe it," the professor continued, going in circles. "Whoever's behind this is shitting us for real."

Yusuke didn't bother closing his mouth as he looked back and forth between the two of them. When Kurama moved to console the professor from her frustrated rambling, she snapped her fingers and blew away stray locks of hair from her face.

"Call it a night, shall we?" said Aoshi all of a sudden, retrieving Yamamoto's less-presentable book and her journal.

She must be trying not to panic. Kurama couldn't fault her. Their unidentified subjects were able to predict their plan of action and use it against them. Capable was understating their faculties.

He would have to bring it up in the meeting, no matter what the others would have to say to an unjustifiable analysis.

"Wash your faces first, though," said Yusuke, pointing at the two of them. "Or someone would make up some weird tale that you were up to something naughty."

Welcoming the chance distraction, Kurama only laughed while the professor whacked Yusuke's head with the books she held before stomping away. She banged the door closed behind her, leaving it terribly shaking against the frame.

"Geez," said Yusuke, nursing the raw spot. "I was joking."

The professor just snapped, that was why she reacted so violently. Yusuke had adamantly misbehaved the entire day and she was not hearing any more of his quibbles when she was rattled to the core.

"Women," his friend said, grumbling under his breath as he dragged his feet out of the kitchen.

Kurama found himself nodding in agreement.

The next day, he found himself walking with a throng of adults in the town shopping center after three hours of travel and almost an hour of walking to the main road to find a taxi. Keiko, Shizuru, and Aoshi were leading the group between the aisles of the small, rural grocer's while he and Kuwabara tagged along, forced to lug the baskets of goods slowly brimming with commodities the girls had listed down and were throwing their way off the shelves.

The moment he saw the professor dressed and ready to go, he realized that he was still against the idea of Aoshi coming with them to run an errand as simple and—dared he say—"boring" to risk being attacked, but she pulled out the guilt card, saying that being trapped in a temple on top of a mountain with demons who would go berserk simply because they wanted to was too much torture.

"I'll save the days of confinement for when I actually have no choice but to stay put," she had said, glaring him down.

He mentally commended her for being true to her intentions; suffice it to say that they didn't stand a chance against her draconian word.

His worries were extinguished upon arrival at the grocer's, sighting that the morning crowd of shoppers had dwindled to a negligible degree to make easier spotting anyone suspicious about them.

The girls were quick to work, much to his surprise. While he and Kuwabara thought they would spend a significant amount of time debating over brands and quality, he realized shopping for commodities weren't the same as shopping for clothes and cosmetics.

But his mother always took time shopping, whether it be goods or clothes.

"What about black beans?" said Keiko.

"Stick to the list," said Aoshi and Shizuru at the same time that they started laughing in a moment's pause.

That was _why_.

"Your sister and the professor seem to be getting along," said Kurama quietly.

Kuwabara laughed, scratching at his ear. "I'd like to think that it's a nice change but I'm afraid another Miss Priss isn't healthy for the crew."

"Prudishness is healthy for adults, Kuwabara."

"I know that, but Urameshi and I are natural fools."

Kurama chuckled, utterly amused at such a perfect perception of character. "There's no arguing against that."

"You're a terrible friend."

"You don't mean that."

He smiled. "I don't."

And that was the end of their conversation. Kurama and Kuwabara didn't always have to talk with each other. They were the type of friends who enjoyed small talk when they had something to hold a conversation with, but they were also the type of friends who delighted in companionable silence when light topics had been exhausted.

But Kuwabara was also the type of friend who showed sensibility that Kurama could easily connect with. He enjoyed forging deeper emotional connections with his peers, and Kurama needed such to keep a healthy psych. Yusuke was a pretender, one who required alcohol influence or emotional turmoil to be invested in serious matters—although he became more honest with himself since the first time Kurama met him. Hiei was, well, a constant supply of jibes.

Sometimes, Kurama thought it was Kuwabara's humanity that made him the person that he was. Perceptive—not necessarily to spiritual beings and inside jokes (Yukina and Hiei, for example)—and empathic, he was the one team member who could easily adapt to an atmosphere, read between the lines, and act fittingly.

He was the type of friend Kurama could spend calm, uncharged silences and exchanges with. With Kuwabara there was no need to be on edge and calculative. The psychic was an open book that invited only honesty from whoever spoke to him.

"Kurama," said Shizuru as they came up the registers.

He walked up to her, baskets jiggling with the barely-balanced goods. "Yes?"

She rubbed her thumb against her fingers back and forth swiftly. Kurama let his face fall. He was a thief. He delighted in obtaining, not in giving, wealth.

"I'm pitching," said Aoshi, her face impatient. "Keiko, too. Two thousand apiece."

"And we Kuwabaras," said Shizuru as a final argument, as though it was the fairest deal—dividing a donation between brother and sister.

Kurama didn't argue and handed the amount with closed eyes.

"I didn't know you were stingy," said Aoshi as she let Shizuru and Keiko in front of the line.

He looked at her smirking face. "Old dispositions are hard to resist."

"Your girlfriend must have been very lonely while she was with you," she said, taking one of the baskets for him to load onto the counter.

Kurama raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. "Professor, my girlfriends were never lonely. Would you like to know how I made sure they always felt pleasant?"

Kuwabara started laughing behind him when the professor's eyes widened slightly in shock at his audacity to announce such in a public area.

He had been with many women before—human, demon, or half-demon—and he was never an abysmal lover. But that was almost three decades ago.

The human world had changed him significantly.

Aoshi wrinkled her nose, wrenching the other basket from his hold. "I don't want to hear any of your libertine tales," she said, flicking her wrist at him in dismissal. She turned his back to him for good measure, helping Shizuru and Keiko unload the goods from the basket and onto the counter in a silence only punctured by the bar code reader's soft, "Ding."

By the time they made it out of the grocer's with more paper bags than they could carry that they needed to use the store push cart, they'd figured they would need more than one taxi to head back to the temple.

They were able to squeeze into a taxi on their way to town, with Aoshi and Keiko—being smallest in build—voted to take the passenger seat and he and the Kuwabaras left with the backseat.

"Okay, split up, kids. Kazu, get in the cab with me and Keiko. Chiaki, you go with Kurama."

Before Kurama could react to the fact that the ladies had dropped honorifics completely, Aoshi eyed him and then Shizuru. She shook her head.

"I'm the eldest. No more arguing," said Shizuru before hailing another taxi. "Kurama, ring Yusuke when we arrive. We're quite short-handed."

In the end, Aoshi ended up sullenly taking the passenger seat while the goods that didn't fit the trunk were loaded beside him on the backseat so that he was squeezed into the corner.

He wasn't sure if he'd said something that Shizuru didn't like for him to deserve this blatant torture.

And as if to make things worse, his reluctant companion pretended to fall asleep as soon as they were one mile from the town center, her reflection seen from the side mirror.

"Do you always have to sleep in transport vehicles, Professor?" he asked.

She opened her eye a crack to look at him in the mirror. "It depends."

"Why now, then?"

She looked at the silent driver from her corner of her eyes. "We don't have anything to talk about."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You and Shizuru have conversed endlessly."

"I was trying to get to know her."

"And not me?" said Kurama, feigning hurt. Truth was, he didn't enjoy the charged atmosphere inside the confined vehicle. Her blatant attempts to keep him at arm's length unsettled Kurama in a way he couldn't explain.

It was as if the exchange they had the other day should have been a turning point in their relationship that wasn't quite that of acquaintances but not even anything akin to that of friends.

She scoffed. "She's an interesting person and we have a lot in common."

"We, too, have a lot in common, Professor."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

"We crave for knowledge. We're scientific. We're cunning."

"And these make a perfect ground to befriend you? No, thank you."

Kurama wasn't about to give up in trying to break her shell. "You don't trust me."

"I don't trust men in general."

Kurama felt the proclamation was more loaded than she let slip.

He smirked, trying to affect nonchalance when he was filled with the desire to gain more from this interaction. "That's a shame. Both of your companions right now are men."

"I trust Shizuru to make you pay if you try laying a finger on me," she said without pause, glancing at the driver through the corner of her eyes. "And I can take care of myself."

"I am a fox, Professor. Don't you think you're underestimating me?"

"I'm not. That I'm just as capable is all I'm trying to let you know."

He looked at her in the mirror. She levelled her gaze with his, unshaken from their quiet exchange. It was as though the trembling, frightened woman from the other day was gone, replaced by a masked lady who refused to admit to her weaknesses in the presence of a stranger.

He could have fired back that he had seen her as a quivering mess, but it was a lame, underhanded move. He didn't play games that way. Neither did the professor. At least that was what he gained from their past exchanges.

"Do you not like me, Professor?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to flirt with me, you're doing it wrong."

Kurama snickered. "You're as sharp as ever. How do I win you, then?" he said, not careful to hide the acid lacing his words.

"I thought you knew how to make sure your girlfriends are in constant pleasure."

"You're a different flower, Professor."

Aoshi glared at him. "Don't romanticize me. I am no metaphor."

"Which makes you all the more interesting."

She looked at him like he'd grown two more heads. "Stop it."

"Do I fluster you?" he said, feeling lightheaded from finally getting the upper hand but reeling from her abrupt change of direction.

Aoshi let her hand cover her eyes. "You do, so drop it." She turned away from him and closed her eyes again, this time truly trying to sleep to get him out of her hair.

He momentarily celebrated his small victory, but then he realized: she had just lost Urawa.

Had his words—sarcastic as they were—truly affected her in a way that reminded her of the late scientist?

o-o

"Professor, I'm sorry," said the redhead as soon as they got out of the taxi.

Good for him to own up to his being a big-time ass. "Don't. I understood your intentions."

She did, and he didn't have to apologize that she'd taken it the wrong way. He didn't have to apologize that he was insensitive and she didn't have to be sorry that she was overly affected.

Thanks to him she was reminded of why she refused to trust men. All of them would find one way or another to betray her. Isamu and Yamamoto were no different even though she had loved them truly.

She loved them but she didn't deserve feeling like shit all the freaking time.

That night when she lay on her bed, she resolved she wouldn't let them make her feel like shit ever again.

"But I—"

Chiaki whirled around to stop him from speaking. "You don't have to explain. I understand that you were just trying to lighten up the mood. It's my fault I took it to heart and it's not my place to receive your apologies so stop."

Thankfully, Jin and Urameshi came thundering down the stone steps, effectively cutting off further conversation. The two bouncing men whizzed by back and forth and up and down the stone steps under the hot afternoon sun, eager for the exercise that came with transporting the goods to the temple.

In no time, the two of them had retrieved every paper bag long before Chiaki, Shizuru, and Keiko could reach the top landing with Kurama and Kuwabara coming up behind them silently.

Shizuru didn't waste a second the moment they arrived and dragged her and Keiko to the kitchen. Yukina and Botan welcomed them home, already sorting the supplies.

"Where are the cleaning materials?" asked Shizuru.

Botan held a paper bag with a smile. Shizuru took them and headed out to the backyard. Her voice carried through the open windows when she yelled, "All right, you slimy gits, give me a hand and start tidying up!"

Chiaki laughed. "She's the housemistress, then?"

"The temple can really use some cleaning but yes, she is," said Keiko, laughing along.

Several pairs of feet were heard shuffling toward the back door just as Chiaki proceeded inside the pantry with the fresh trays of eggs. The sound of grumbling and grunting from the kitchen reached the closed pantry as Yukina opened the door to load more vegetables inside.

"Women," said a voice that registered as Suzuki's. "I don't deserve to be reduced to a mere houseboy."

Chiaki stepped out of the pantry and stood akimbo in front of the throng of male demons. "Well, excuse us for trying to take down the patriarchal paradigm, misters."

Suzuki merely shoved his nose in the air and proceeded to the hallway with the mop on his shoulder.

"I suggest coming up with something that would jab at his 'beauty'," said Shishiwakamaru with the slightest hint of malice in the last word. "But nice try, miss."

He winked at her—much to her chagrin—before he and the silent Touya disappeared after the blonde, vain demon.

Chiaki took another tray to load more vegetables onto, trying to control her temper. It would be too bad to damage the premium potatoes she'd selected just because her irksome companions added to her already unpleasant mood.

"Pardon my friends, ma'am. They're a handful for grown men, I know," said Rinku who was left behind to lug the rest of the cleaning substances.

The three-foot child's—demon or not, he was still a child—pitiful state only furthered her irritation that she let go of the potatoes entirely and scooped the basket of the materials and beckoned him to go with her.

"Professor, you don't have to," Rinku said as he jogged behind her.

"Demon or not, you're a youngster and I'm a human against the patriarchy," said Chiaki.

"That's admirable, but I'm older than you are."

"And they're older than you are."

"Shouldn't you respect them then?"

This child was starting to grate on her nerves. "They're perfectly capable men who look down on women and children. That alone doesn't warrant respect."

They reached the foyer where the three disagreeable demons deposited their equipment and Chiaki slammed the basket near Suzuki who stared at her like she was the ugliest woman he'd ever laid his eyes on.

She didn't give a damn and sashayed back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind her for all of the temple to hear.

"I get it that you're extremely opposed to their ways, Chiaki," said Shizuru. "But don't break the door."

"God, what did I do to deserve this?" Chiaki said as she went back to her potatoes.

o-o

Kurama wiped away with his face towel the beads of sweat on his forehead. It was late in the afternoon and he had just finished sheering the last length of bushes about the temple. He could have used his energy to will the plants to submission, but he figured to sit under the scorching summer rays and work manually was a perfect way to unwind and reconnect with nature.

"You can't get any more pathetic than that, fox, can you?" Hiei had said once when he found him crouched in front of a coleus growth before disappearing somewhere again, probably to do Shizuru's bidding.

Kurama wasn't affected at all.

He lifted the bag of litter and placed it next to the dozen others that the rest of the household was able to gather from the general cleaning that the elder Kuwabara had spearheaded. By now the ruckus had somehow died down and the whole temple was restored to its usual calm as the first signs of inevitable arrival of dusk appeared in the horizon.

Kurama stretched his hands above his head, gathering his sheers and rake to keep in the backyard storehouse. He took off his gloves and dusted himself, briefly wondering what the ladies had prepared for supper.

After washing himself with water from the well in fear of being scolded for soiling the once again pristine floors of the temple, he found only one of them in the kitchen, equally haggard as he was with the evening preparations underway.

"Where's everybody?" he asked as he came through the back door.

"Making sure the boys don't break anything," Aoshi said without looking up from her rapid dicing of tomatoes.

"How may I help you?"

"You actually cook?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to sound offended.

"Are you thoroughly clean?" She spun around to indicate the large pot by the sink. "Boil some salted water then help me with the corn."

He did as was told and she handed to him an ear of corn afterwards. They silently cut the kernels off the cobs after discarding the husks and silks, and the professor was quick to retrieve a pan she set on the stove next to the boiling pot.

He watched her work almost fluidly, finding the cooking oil easily as though she had been in this kitchen her whole life. She motioned for him to pass the corn kernels that she then added to the heated oil.

"Salt, pepper," she said. Kurama promptly gave her the ingredients. He stood beside her as she cooked the corn, then adding the minced scallions, ginger, and garlic and some more salt and pepper. She stirred them only once before giving the spatula to him.

She turned away. "Add the tomatoes when the corn's browned and the aromatics soft and fragrant. I'll take care of the noodles."

"Is this mazemen?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, standing next to him to lift the lid of the boiling pot of water. She dropped the noodles inside, stirring to separate the strands, all the while staring at her wrist watch. Kurama could almost laugh at her attempt at precision even in something as mundane as cooking. She turned the stove off as soon as her watch hit ninety seconds.

When she took pot holders to strain the hot noodles in the sink, he held up a hand and volunteered himself for the task. They wordlessly swapped utensils. She then proceeded to season the shrimps ridden of their exoskeletons with salt and pepper before adding them to the sautéing pan. As soon as he set aside the noodles in a big bowl, she asked him to replace her on the stove so she could prepare the sauce.

He turned the stove off and transferred the contents of the pan to the bowl of noodles while the professor finished whisking together the ingredients of the sauce. She then poured the mixture into the bowl with some mizuna. Using a pair of tongs, she mixed the dish well, adding more salt to taste.

"Tidy up, will you? I'll get the paraphernalia."

The two of them worked silently and she transferred the mazemen to separate bowls, garnishing with minimal scallions and shichimi togarashi. Her level of concentration and dedication to prepare food in a high-end style struck Kurama as admirable.

This side to her surprised him again.

When they finished setting up the long table, she was winded.

"I'm going to freshen up a bit before I call everyone for supper," said the professor as she wiped away the sweat from her forehead.

She was cracking her neck as she made her way to the kitchen door. "You'd need it, too. You look like some skunk farted on you," she said before the door fell completely closed.

Kurama decided that she was correct. Some minutes later while he was drying his face in the bathroom, her ringing, steady shout that pierced into the racket that the others were making in the opposite wing reached his ears:

"FILTHY BILGE SERVANTS! DINNER IS SERVED!"

Several pairs of feet echoed, thundering down the hallway and Kurama opened the door to see the throng of hungry workers racing to the kitchen. Shizuru and the other ladies were lagging behind, taking their time.

Aoshi's yelling rang through the temple again.

"CHU! WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST!"

Botan was giggling as they approached him.

"URAMESHI! WAIT FOR THE OTHERS!"

Kurama joined the ladies who were openly laughing at the professor's trouble. When they saw the kitchen scene, Kurama understood why.

The once pristine table was a now mess in one end where the men had flocked to eat their share of the supper. One bowl was already emptied by the person holding the professor by the waist, down on his knees next to the counter.

"You're a capable woman, Miss Aoshi! Accept me as your husband!" Chu was saying with _tears_ in his eyes.

Aoshi was trying to wriggle out of his grasp, scandalized beyond comprehension. "Give me a hand, will you?" she yelled at them.

"It's that good, huh?" said Shizuru, taking a seat next to her brother, as if not hearing any of Aoshi's cries of protest.

"Miss Kuwabara," said Suzuki, pausing with the air of someone who struggled to keep a constant image of elegance. "I don't like Miss Aoshi but this is the best food we've had in a while."

"I didn' know the professah cooks this fine," said Jin, agreeing as he shoved another mouthful of the mazemen into his mouth.

The other men didn't bother reacting and continued eating from their bowls with gusto. Even Hiei, although a bit surreptitiously.

Kurama and the other ladies took their seats and said their grace, trying to rile the professor further. When he had his first taste, he realized they were right. It was indeed exceptionally delicious, as the professor had put so much thought in the recipe and in perfecting it.

When he looked up to find Aoshi who'd given up on trying to break free from Chu's drunken grasp, she threw him a glare before hissing in a voice he'd only heard her use on two occasions: the first time when she first spoke to him in Tenshi to Oni and the other time when he tried to suggest that Urawa would make her go back on her word.

"I am flattered, but please just get him off me."

Kurama didn't take off his eyes from hers as he ate another shrimp, helping himself from smirking as he chewed.

Aoshi rolled her eyes so far to back of her head that he would have never guessed she didn't have anything but scleras.

It took pinching the right pressure point at the back of Chu's neck before she was able to have her share of the meal with much less enthusiasm as everyone else who tasted it.

"Now I know why Urawa thought you'd make a good wife," said Kurama in a whisper as the two of them tidied up after the others.

She whisked water from her wet hands to his face. "Don't say that again. Ever."

"And if I do?" he asked, not bothering to wipe the droplets away.

She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "I'll surprise you."

They stared at each other for a long while before going back to work, not bothering to move the drunk demon from the spot he'd fallen on when they turned off the lights and closed the kitchen door behind them.

* * *

A/N: Happy new year, everyone! I don't really have anything to say except for the fact that I have enjoyed writing this chapter so much because finally Kurama is starting to think differently about our dear Chiaki. We also see more of Chiaki's issues.

* mazemen – a Japanese noodle dish without the broth and thus is perfect for summer; the recipe used in this chapter was taken from the site Blue Apron: "Shrimp & Summer Vegetable Mazemen with Fresh Ramen Noodles & Miso-Soy Sauce". I would love to get my hands on this dish when I have the time!

 _Review response for Kal (Guest):_ Oh yes, I do remember you from the first chapter! I'm happy you came across this story again. I hope you've had fun reading the installments. Hope to see you here regularly. :)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and those who added this story to their faves and alerts! You make me so happy.

Kindly leave a review! Next chapter will be meeting the big guys.

See you soon!


	15. V - Silence

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part V

" _You have a grand gift for silence, Watson. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion."_

― Arthur Conan Doyle, _The Complete Sherlock Holmes_

o-o

 _Silence_

"Chiaki," said Shizuru for the umpteenth time that morning. The elder Kuwabara took the knife from her hand and said with a cigarette between her lips, "That's it. You won't kill yourself. Out."

As Chiaki nursed her bleeding finger, dejected, Yukina ran up to her, kimono clutched by a hand in her haste. "Miss Chiaki, please let me."

Chiaki shook her head. "It's a scratch, I'll be fine. Thanks, dear."

She exited the busy kitchen and went straight to the bathroom, locking herself in it. The blood went down along the soft trickle of cold tap water, paler and almost pink as it traveled down the drain.

Blood that was crimson and alike Isamu's.

Chiaki bit her lip as she felt too much pressure on the wound that was deeper than she'd let Yukina know. She didn't wish to be healed again by the ice maiden when she could help it. Somehow, fear that she'd remain numb and addicted to the absence of physical pain and reminders of hurt kept her from seeking healing through supernatural means.

She wasn't freaking out because Yukina was a demon just like about seventy-five percent of this household. She was more anxious about the visitors bound to arrive in a few hours.

When she woke up minutes before sunrise, she swept up the front lawn, and when the lingering dirt from yesterday were all disposed of, she joined the girls in the kitchen. But she managed to spill soy sauce on the table, send the napa cabbage and tomatoes rolling on the floor, and cut her finger.

Shizuru was just right to send her away when she couldn't gain mastery of herself.

With the wound no longer bleeding, she reached for the first aid kit from the overhead shelf. A moment of applying antiseptic and dressing the wound on her left forefinger and she was out in the veranda, ridden of any other idea to pass the time.

"Good morning."

Chiaki slowly raised her eyes from inspecting her feet to scowl at the redhead. "What's good about the morning?"

Kurama sat some feet away from her. "It's a beautiful summer morning, isn't it?" he said, staring out into the garden. "I wonder why you were busy staring at your feet when there's a good view ahead."

Chiaki didn't have anything to retort when he had a point. She only shuffled her feet against the stepping stone.

"You don't have to be afraid of them," he said, turning to her. "Enki and Koenma are agreeable. Yomi and Mukuro are stiff and regal, but I trust you can conduct yourself well in front of them."

"I'm not afraid of anybody, Kurama. Not you, not the Kings," she said abruptly, against the prospect of something as preposterous as such to ring true for more than five seconds. "I'm afraid of what they're going to tell me, of the truth behind all this that they've managed to find out."

"Evil is everywhere, Professor," he said, now staring ahead in the garden that was enveloped with the sunlight that the bushes took a new form of green. "As long as there is good, evil will persist. As there can always be humans against humans, demons against demons, and humans against demons."

Understanding his drift, she took out her cigarette box and lit up one. "I get it, but sometimes it's hard not to wish otherwise. Sometimes I lay at night thinking why some idiot would want to manufacture potentially dangerous creatures who would shit the world further. It's as if the goddamn shit the world has to offer isn't enough so this little piece of codswallop just thought of spicing up things a bit."

"Without crime there would have been no need for us."

"I understand but… it baffles me how people who're supposed to be improving human life are involved in something as destructive as this fiasco," she said, waving her cigarette in the air as if to indicate a virtual sketch.

"It's so frustrating. You wake up every day to go to work and learn more about the mechanisms of life so you get something useful done or developed while some others go crazy over something. And to what end? To satiate their curiosity? To seek revenge? To be better than the rest of the humankind?"

She buried her face between her knees. She felt so weak suddenly.

"God, if I hear what I'm thinking from Koenma, I might go drinking with Chu."

Kurama didn't move. "No faculty—human or demon—was able to circumvent the high price of meddling with the balance of the three worlds, Professor. Many have tried and all of them fell down. I am no stranger to these endeavors and this alone wouldn't render my words placatory but let me try anyway: you can trust us."

She moved her head to see him through her left eye. It appeared that he'd been looking at her the whole time with a smile to his face.

"Not me or Yusuke or Kuwabara or Hiei. But us as a whole. We have our faults but we've been through more than you could imagine," he continued before turning back to the garden. "There's no denying that the past few days have been rough and almost mortifying to someone as sheltered as you are but you can trust that we would see this through."

Chiaki moved to stare again at the dark cave that was the hollow between her touching knees. "I'm not sheltered, Kurama… You don't know what I've been through."

She always had to dissent him in one way or another.

"But… thanks, anyway."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to sound presumptive."

She only grunted.

There was complete silence between the two of them, a complete quiet that was neither deafening nor alarming, only felt and… there.

Like they didn't need to say anything more.

It was the kind of quiet that Chiaki had been meaning to enjoy amidst the ruckus that was her life at the moment. A break from everything that had happened and was about to happen. The type of silence that made her not feel like sleeping but reading the latest issue of journals she'd subscribed to or some sappy romance novel by some equally sappy author.

Chiaki couldn't understand why. He was sitting there with her, breathing as she was, but it didn't feel intrusive to the peace that she so craved. Like he was trying to let her exist while he did, without anyone taking offense or needing defense.

Kurama offered the type of quiet that didn't make her feel too alone but private, nonetheless.

She didn't get it. He was as every bit grating as the man who liked to play with her in his quiet manner of trickery. He was the man who talked in his cool certainty as though he knew all of her. He was the fox who chided her for being difficult without having to yell at her.

As though he knew she needed the quiet and wanted the calm.

"Kurama," she said to her little cave.

"Yes?"

"When I thanked you I meant it," she said, too fast that her breath felt too hot on her skin.

"I'm sorry?"

She lifted her head an inch further from her cave. "I meant it. Thank you. For the other day. And the day before that. For yesterday, too, for helping me cook and for Chu. For today."

He drew a breath, a breath very silent as was the rest of him, probably trying not to smile too hard at her silliness.

"I guess you're welcome, Professor."

She hummed against her cave again.

"Well, I hope you're feeling well, Professor," he said, treading on their silence. "I'll see you later."

She didn't move; she didn't protest. He stood from his position and walked past her in his feather-light footsteps. The sliding of the door and its subsequent closing.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ He walked further into the temple and away from her. _Tap. Tap._ Until it no longer pierced in the silence that was her own.

When she was finally left with the silence she shared with no one, Chiaki felt something in her shift. The emptiness and deafening void was abruptly too unsettling for her.

She raised her head from her cave, squinting in the brightness of the less than peaceful summer view and allowed her lips to connect with her source of nicotine.

Somehow it wasn't as soothing as it used to be.

o-o

Kurama paused in his tracks.

 _What was that?_

He heard her perfectly the first time she uttered the words. He heard when she amended and made it more certain. But she tricked her to say it again, knowing she would elaborate. Her predictability was to such a degree that he knew she would repeat what she said like an educator through and through—elaborating to make him understand, to offer an explanation.

She didn't thrive on the meager and the unclear. She liked to see reasons and to offer them.

She thanked him because of what he did. She was grateful because he'd been _nice_.

He wanted her to say it her way as though it would make him feel better about himself. Because he wanted to feel good about himself, because his ego could use more feeding.

Not because he wanted to make sure she felt all right, not because he wanted to see her riled up, not because he was enjoying her company.

 _I'm merely trying to appear good and reliable and trustworthy._

 _That's it._

He was trying to win her trust for the sake of this mission. He was exerting additional effort to make her feel secure and safe. Because the team needed her cooperation and her full faith.

" _Not me or Yusuke or Kuwabara or Hiei. But us as a whole."_

 _Heh._

What nice words he'd managed to speak, knowing how she suffered from trust issues. How smooth of him to take advantage of her weakness in favor of him and his friends who were members of the sex she so blatantly despised. For being manipulative and chronic liars.

His mother wouldn't approve of this thinking.

But he couldn't have done it out of compassion, could he? He'd done it because it was part of the plan and because he wanted to feed his ego.

That was it.

Kurama blinked down at the wooden floor, the calm of the temple barely obvious from the cacophony that was his thoughts.

His thoughts that had gone naught for a moment when he'd sat in silence with her. While her face was hidden from his prying eyes, the smoke from her cigarette rising soundlessly with the crisp summer air.

It was a moment in time when he managed to drop his defenses and thought about nothing but the silence between warm, breathing bodies that offered a tinge of unassuming calm and absolute peace.

Strange as it was, it felt pleasant.

Somehow it came across as more enjoyable than their little quibbles and his attempts to get down to her weaknesses.

It filled him up without suffocating him, without being invasive.

It was a welcome feeling.

Kurama shook his head.

"Tell me you're _not_ thinking about the human woman," said Hiei, standing a few feet from him with a scowl in his face.

He didn't even notice he was there. Kurama crossed the few feet to his room and locked himself in.

Aoshi was out of the question. He'd just gone too soft.

o-o

A door slid open. "They're here," said Shizuru.

Chiaki sprang up from reclining on the wooden floor of the veranda, clambering to stand on her feet.

"How do I look?" she asked Shizuru, reaching up to fix the bun on top of her head.

"You're going to a meeting."

"And I have to look reliable." She finished securing the bun with the hair stick and patted her cheeks rapidly. "I could've worried about this while I could and I chose to laze around."

The two of them walked into the house and Chiaki ran to her room to grab her a pen, her journal, and Yamamoto's book. The same time she got out, Kurama emerged from his.

"The living room," he said, walking up to her.

They silently ambled beside each other. Kurama opened the door for her and she was met with a diverse mix of looks from the most peculiar assembly she'd laid her eyes on.

"Professor Aoshi Chiaki," said the Reikai Prince on one end of the table. He had only seen him in one form—a toddler with a facetious pacifier on his lips. There was no toddler but there was the same blue pacifier, the same voice, and the same uncanny "Jr." marking on the forehead of this adult Koenma.

Peculiar.

Kurama's hand was on her elbow and he lightly guided her to sit next to Kuwabara who smiled to her. She readjusted her position on the cushion, bowing to the occupants of the table as Kurama sat next to her.

"Please take good care of me," she said before straightening up and taking a thorough, sweeping look at the curious persons across from them without being rude.

The huge, _red_ demon next to Koenma's left was smiling at her with his eyes that were big and bright. Two gray horns jutted out of his forehead, his goatee and mustache the same color as his hair—grass that was in the brink of yellowing in late summer. He wore a simple white sleeveless shirt.

Next to him was someone sitting with his hands on the table, probably an avid fan of ears and horns—he had about at least six ears and horns; Chiaki wasn't able to count well. His eyes were closed in a manner that could suggest he no longer used them, that he was blind. He moved his head with immaculately straight and long jet-black hair, and Chiaki gulped at the sight of another horn at the back of his head. She briefly wondered how he slept with all that.

The last carrot-top was a female—Chiaki was quite sure of it. The better half of her face that wasn't malformed exuded the beauty of perpetual youth, her lips drawn to a soft smirk. The cyborg-like female stared at her unblinkingly with both narrow left eye and a glossy right lens, and it didn't surprise her that a chill ran down her spine from the charged _looks_ sent her way.

"Enki," said the red demon, with a smile. "Nice to finally meet you, Professor."

Chiaki couldn't believe it. _This was the king of the Makai?_ The two people next to him wore regal, flowing clothes and he chose to wear a tank top on a meeting.

"I am Yomi," said Seven Horns who didn't bother to turn his head to her general direction. _Stuck up asshole._

The only female in the assembly aside from her and Botan—who sat near a corner acting as the secretary—inclined her head in greeting. "Call me Mukuro," she said, using the wrong pronoun. "In case you were wondering, I am the governor of the territory of Alaric while Yomi, Gandara."

She thought herself _male_? Chiaki felt offended for very obvious reasons. _Just what is it with maleness?_

"And Yusuke the territory of Toushin," said Kurama.

"Though I let Hokushin do all the work while I'm here," said the detective sitting across from the big guy.

Chiaki didn't fully understand the political dealings these people had and she wasn't sure if she got it right that the three territories made up the Makai and Enki stood in center of them all but it was the least of her worries.

"So you're all under King Enki's supremacy," she said for lack of anything else to say.

"Yes, it would appear so," said Mukuro stiffly. _Had she touched a nerve?_

"Anyway, since everyone's here—"

The door slid open and Hiei didn't bother apologizing for being late and rudely cutting off Koenma. He closed the door and sat next to Kurama.

The Reikai King sighed. Chiaki totally understood him. Hiei was being an A-class prick.

"As I was saying, let's begin," said Koenma after a moment's pause. "You've been called to this meeting as was seen fit in light of the situation we have at hand. Four research facilities suffered consecutive attacks in less than a month and while all were set in the Ningenkai, I wished for the Makai to be alerted as well as it involved half-demons.

"After thorough investigation of available evidence and deduction by Professor Aoshi and Kurama, we've concluded that the half-demons were indeed artificially developed—scientifically, that is. Which brings us to another concern.

"Three days ago, I received a record of names of scientists that could have been involved in this elaborate plan. All of those marked as dead have indeed passed on as scheduled, except for Yamamoto and Urawa. We looked into the manner of their deaths and while Urawa was evidently assaulted, we had no way of knowing how Yamamoto died.

"Furthermore, Botan and all other guides of souls are forbidden to speak about anything that could have been confided to them, thus hindering us from figuring out the real reason he died."

"Forgive me for interrupting," said Chiaki, stricken with the urge to speak. "If it would be any comfort to you, I don't think Yamamoto would have ever shared anything regarding his death, not even to a guide."

"I find it admirable," said Yomi, the sneer in his voice clearly heard and not merely hinted at, "that you seem to be so confident that you know this man well."

"I'd like to think I do. And I'd like to think he chose to kill himself confident that I would find the answers I sought."

Kurama whispered, "Professor, you don't mean—"

She turned to the redhead. "I mean it, Kurama. I've been thinking about it since the other night but now I'm certain," she said, turning to Koenma. "I believe that Yamamoto Koji indeed killed himself. Not because he was afraid to die soaked in blood but because he'd done something awful and wanted to protect the information that he chose to pass to me and Urawa Isamu."

Silence descended upon the assembly as they absorbed her proclamation. She turned to the folded page of her journal that contained the transcribed letter. The more she stared at it, the more convinced she became that this was supposed to detail what drove Yamamoto to take his life.

She'd doubted it only a moment prior but now, everything seemed to have fallen into place.

"King Koenma, please do continue," Chiaki said, nodding her head.

Koenma cleared his throat. Botan finished scribbling on her notepad. "For now, we'll take this as the truth," he said. "We have no way of knowing for sure as the human police force had attested to but if it's any relief to you, Professor, then yes, we'll rule it out as a suicide.

"Shall we proceed then?"

The table occupants expressed their assent.

"On the matter of the pages that were missing, we've come up with a list of all the dead scientists who must have appeared in the record. We sought the help of the human authorities and currently they are looking into the manner of their deaths and filed reports of missing cases."

He raised an open palm towards Botan who handed him a file folder, which he gave to Urameshi. "This is the list. When the NPA turns in the names we've requested, I'll make sure it reaches you, too."

"Well, then, now that human-related concerns have been dealt with, why don't we tackle the reason as to why you've called for us, Koenma?" said Mukuro, with a tone that suggested she could care less about anything else—about humans.

What a rude demon _bitch._

"Ah," said Koenma, turning to Chiaki. "Professor, the book Yamamoto has left you, if you would?"

Chiaki gingerly lifted the book from her lap. Kurama turned to the book with the stained pages. "Uh, we had to transcribe a letter that he'd hidden so it's less presentable," she said as everyone else turned to the book she laid at the center of the table, its title page visible to the demon officers, "but it's still readable."

The three of them—well, two really, as Yomi just listened to Enki's awed gasps and grunting—inspected the book, Mukuro flipping it pages at a time without batting _an_ eyelid.

When they finished the book, Mukuro slid it back to Chiaki and turned her head to look at Koenma. "You're thinking demon scientists are also involved in this, then?"

Chiaki realized she hadn't thought of this side of the story before. Perhaps she was too hung up loathing the audacity of her fellow scientific people to develop things… creatures counterproductive to human betterment.

And she _never_ thought demons could be just as advanced as humans.

"The book speaks loads of how a human could have possibly gained so much knowledge on youkai biology," said Koenma, nodding his head. "I don't intend to downplay your capability to notice these underground activities but it's still too early into our envisioned plans to expect nothing like this could potentially happen and be missed."

Enki spoke before either Yomi or Mukuro could fire back a retort. "No offense taken, Koenma. We understand, it's not like everyone's bitten into our ways, not even after almost a decade. I'm sure Mukuro and Yomi won't argue with that," he said, throwing the two demon governors a look that was neither commanding nor genial. "Besides, there are lots of ways youkai could've been involved in this, too, aside from being perpetrators, for all we know."

Chiaki's eyebrow shot up her forehead.

Enki noticed and was waving his humongous hands in front of him, bowing his head slightly in apology. "I don't mean to offend you or your fellow scientists, Professor. I'm just saying that there are other possibilities by which our kind could have meddled with this. Youkai are a diverse group of creatures, as humans are."

 _As humans are. Of course._

"Which brings us to the reason why we've called you here," said Koenma, hoping to interrupt the brewing heated argument that Chiaki would gladly jump right at, as mad as she was at the foolish humans behind this hullabaloo. "We need you to send your best men to look for leads. It's certain that the Makai is a part of this plot, but we have no idea what role it plays. Right now, not even our stipulated headquarters, Todai, revealed any true signs of these dealings."

"Not even Kurama's plants caught on, then?" said Yomi, smirking.

Kurama didn't even bother rolling his eyes at the blind demon.

"Unfortunately, no, and now that our cover's been blown, we're sure they'll give us a hard time to locate their main base. All the more reason that we have to deploy our troops to every corner of the Makai and Ningenkai, see?"

Enki nodded. "Very well."

"Why are you so confident that humans are capable of developing capable creatures?" said Yomi, his head turned to Chiaki.

Chiaki wanted to break something. "I'm a researcher on tissue culture and molecular and cellular studies, _sir_. And I assure you, human facilities are far more than able to clone and culture anything with the right and optimal protocols," she said, her grip on her journal tightening to a worrying degree. "And if what I am able to gather from this assembly are true, then your kind are just as capable and can potentially be more than welcome to collaborate with rogue human scientists."

"For a human as successful as you are, I'd expected you to boast only of your kind," he said, smirking.

How these demons could apparently not let go of their prejudice against humans and human women was grating on her nerves.

"There's no need for us to be a set of stuck-up, self-important snobs in spite of our accomplishments, _sir_. Yamamoto and Urawa were stupid to let their pride disguised as curiosity eat their heads and look where they are now," she said, trying not to sound spiteful even as their names pierced something inside her like needles soaked in ice-cold water. " _Gone_."

 _And to what end? Nothing._

Yomi wasn't fazed. It took a lot to rile up this guy, huh?

"Impressive mouth," he said, turning to Koenma. "But I fail to see why you trust her every word, Koenma. How sure are you that she's not a mere pawn in their plan?"

 _Pawn?_ Of course, just because Yamamoto was able to predict her actions and send her to the right herd she was a pawn played with.

"She is no pawn, Yomi, and I deplore you for besmirching her," said Kurama, speaking for the first time, his voice steely. "You may argue that they are after Professor Aoshi, but there's no denying that we've been ridden of one potential threat when she chose to seek us."

Chiaki was thankful for the backup, but really, she could handle herself.

Yes, she was anxious just an hour ago but this bunch turned out to be no different from her senior colleagues.

"Did I hear you right, Kurama?"

"I believe I avoided ambiguity, Yomi."

"A'right," said Urameshi too loudly, stretching his hands above his head. "Why don't we have a break? I'm starving."

Their group immediately broke up and Chiaki felt an arm descend on her shoulders before she could get to the open doors where everyone else had gone through.

"Professor," said Urameshi, a stiff grin on his face. "Sorry about Yomi and Mukuro for being snooty. They're thousands of years old so it's kinda difficult to deal with their old habits."

She shook his arm off her. "I can handle myself."

"Yeah, I can see that. But you don't have to join us after lunch. We'll only bore you with the planning."

Chiaki looked at this man with the brushed up hair. "That's very nice of you. I was just thinking of passing up."

He rubbed at his nose. "Well, I can afford to be nice sometimes. Come on, I'm so hungry I can eat more than a bowl of your mazemen."

The two of them strode together. "Sorry, there's no mazemen today."

"But you can always make some, can't you?" he said, grinning widely at her.

"Of course. You can help me out next time. I could use your kitchen skills."

"That's cool."

o-o

The professor decided she was no longer needed for the planning and insisted to help with cleaning instead. This was much to his pleasure, as he no longer wanted to hear Yomi making snide remarks about her, even though she met them with her own cheek. The scallywag always had to take it out on the newcomer, especially on a human and a woman.

She instead took the file from Yusuke and was left to decipher patterns from the list. She should know; she was acquainted to many of her contemporaries.

After hours spent on coming up with a strategic plan of action, they called it a day. Yomi didn't waste a moment to single him out of the crowd and whisper words that never mattered:

"A little defensive of the wretch, aren't you, Kurama?"

He allowed himself to glare at the despicable scamp. "I'm not sure which I find more loathsome: your throwing shade on Professor Aoshi's reliability or your hinting that I have decided to make leaving my human life behind more torturous."

"You must think very badly of me if you feel that way," said Yomi, laughing darkly. "But Kurama, why don't you think of me as an old friend speaking to a softer, more easily-affected version of a previous equal?"

"There's no need to make light my situation, Yomi. I am perfectly aware of what I should and shouldn't do."

"As I am, as I am," said Yomi, nodding. He patted him on the shoulder. "It's a relief to hear this from you. I'm afraid I didn't think you could sink any lower."

Kurama's hands clenched to fists. He stopped walking.

"I'm awaiting your return to where you belong, Kurama," he said, continuing in his way without turning to Kurama over his shoulders. "I'll see you by and by."

Yomi turned the corner and disappeared, leaving Kurama alone in the hallway.

Hiei was no different from Yomi with regards to being uncouth but the latter was the type who would speak his mind all the time that it grated on his thread of patience more so.

And it bothers him that he couldn't afford to admit that they spoke partial truths. That he was afraid to admit to feeling rather contented to spend the quiet and to speak about life with the professor. That he'd like to get to know her better for reasons he'd rather not think about.

Something white and small suddenly catapulted out of thin air from the direction Yomi and the rest of the visitors had disappeared to, and upon his realizing that it was a house slipper, the professor's voice rang out throughout the temple:

"I WILL NO LONGER HEAR YOU RATTLING ON, QUESTIONING MY RELIABILITY, YOU RUDE RUG RAT!"

Kurama jogged to the source of the yelling and found the visitors standing in front of a clearly intoxicated Aoshi held by the shoulders by the equally alcohol-influenced Jin. Chu had passed out on the entryway, hugging the empty jar of sake. Shishiwakamaru, Touya, and Suzuki had all risen to their feet, ready to prevent any mishap that involved more than a drunk human throwing a slipper at a powerful demon.

"Okay, Professor," said Kuwabara, trying to placate the red-faced Aoshi. "I think you've had too much to drink. Why don't—"

Aoshi tried to shake Jin's hands off her shoulders. "Oh yes, too much to drink that allowed me to say it aloud that I am no longer taking any bullshit from this seven-horned, snarky scoundrel!"

Mukuro scoffed. Koenma almost dropped his pacifier. Enki gulped aloud.

Yomi kept his cool and walked past the professor who kept scowling at him.

"Let's go. I have more significant things to do than engaging a drunken human woman."

Aoshi sank to the floor, helplessly held at bay as the whole parade of demons and Koenma walked away and into the portals a harried Botan had set up.

Yomi spared all of them with a last blind glance before he stepped into the swirling, gray vortex and disappeared.

"Take care of her," said Koenma, his eyebrows furrowed, before he was transported himself.

Jin struggled to maintain the professor's limp form from laying down on the less hygienic floor, and Kurama ran up to them as soon as the portals and their visitors vanished as though they never were in the temple to begin with.

Several pairs of feet were heard running as he helped the wind tamer heave Aoshi to stand on her feet missing one slipper. She was extremely heavy now that she had passed out.

"Kurama, let me bring her," said Kuwabara.

"I can manage, Kuwabara, thank you."

Kurama scooped her up with some assistance from Yusuke and Kuwabara before he marched away to bring her to her room, Aoshi's head lolling from his shoulder.

"I told her to drink light," said Shizuru, coming with him.

"You honestly thought Chu would submit to light drinking?" Kurama asked, mortified that this could have happened. That the professor had let this happen.

Shizuru slid the door to her room open, setting up the futon and pillows quickly. "Even if he didn't, Chiaki had a choice," she said, patting the futon flat. "And don't get cheeky on me now, Kurama, you're not her boyfriend."

He reviewed how he'd acted just moments prior. He was certain Yomi's parting words were the cause of his less than agreeable mood.

"I didn't mean to sound like so," he said, bending down to lay the professor on the futon. She was heavily flushed from head to toe.

"Well, be careful, then," Shizuru said, adjusting Aoshi's head on the pillow. "I know you don't intend to stay so you better watch out for your actions. This girl's had a hard time and quite vulnerable as it is."

He knew that. That she lost the man who could have potentially made her his wife. That she was broken and that she hadn't completely recovered. And among all these, somehow, hearing people suggest repeatedly in so short a time that he would take advantage of her position was testing his patience.

"Tell Keiko to fetch me a basin of cold water and get out of here," said Shizuru as she opened the closet.

He wordlessly exited the room and went up to Keiko as Shizuru asked. He then decided he could use a walk in the forest under the twilit sky.

Perhaps releasing some of his energy would help him cool down and think things through more effectively.

o-o

After hours of wandering through the humid woods, Kurama found himself sitting on a rock overlooking the edge of a cliff. Moonlight enveloped the dark oblivion, and he stared unseeingly.

He didn't know what it was that made him feel unease. Whether it was his mother's persistent reminders of starting a relationship, his comrades' reminders of his decision to live his dual identity, or his feeling protective of the professor.

As he was walking aimlessly through the tangle of roots and bushes in the forest, he tried being pragmatic in his analysis.

His mother was only concerned for him as she was entitled to, without knowing of his past and his future plans. His friends were only being protective of his pride as a youkai and also of anyone who had the misfortune of being entangled with him in his complicated position. Lastly, he was merely anxious about the professor's well-being and the consequences of which on the part she played in this mission that they'd been assigned.

And that he had grown to slightly—in a very _infinitesimal_ degree—care for her. Especially after what had transpired between the two of them not too long ago. Along with this inexplicable change of heart, he felt the need to get to know her better.

These unprecedented advances stemmed from the feeling that she had let him in on so many secrets that only the two of them could relate to: her being less than an ideal educator, Yamamoto's lair, and her history with Urawa.

He had known so many things about her that he felt more intimate with her than he ever did with the rest of the women he'd been acquainted to. Not Botan or Keiko or Yukina or Shizuru. Not even Maya.

It was with the professor that he enjoyed intellectual challenges and unpredictability. Perhaps it was because he'd never allowed himself to share more private time with any of his women friends given their separate preoccupations in the past decade and because he'd never tried to forge any form of relationship with anyone. Not even with his mother constantly asking for a change of heart.

And he couldn't afford to set everything to motion once more when his life was ramshackle as it already was. He required pauses and he'd chosen to pause this particular area for such an extended period that he didn't feel there was a need not to… anymore.

All right, he found Aoshi Chiaki's smarts interesting and inviting, he'd have to admit. He hadn't come across anyone like her before. He'd known many strong women who chose to be independent and self-reliant but she was, as he'd said to her, "a different flower."

And she was so easily flustered and volatile—spontaneous in a way that rattled him just right. But she was also emotional and susceptible, attesting to the validity of the claim that she was not exactly different from all the women he'd met before. They all required consolation and support, to feel needed and welcome; they also required a stand to live by and become—two different needs that he'd seen today if her actions and words against Yomi were to go by.

Beneath the iron exterior was a woman who was inherently good and had the perfect kind of sense expected from someone of her caliber. The fact that she questioned the motives of the architects of this disaster was evidence to her inclination to do good and be good.

The same goodness that had rubbed off on him in his prolonged stay in the Ningenkai. The same goodness that had made her more human and more interesting.

He delighted in the idea that she was just like any.

But he realized it wasn't because he wanted to strip her of all the things that made her stand out. It was because he wanted to find some semblance between her and all the friends he'd gained, some semblance that would speak of how she was just as worthy of his attention.

He wasn't able to draw up any plan to deal with his feelings when he went back to the temple. Everyone else had gone to their nightly routines, and he entered through the kitchen.

As if he needed any more reminder of his current conflict, the professor was sitting alone on one end of the table, her droopy eyes barely focused on the tea cup she was holding with both hands.

"Professor," he said after a moment's pause during which she lifted her eyes to the open door. He was surprised to see her awake.

"You," she said weakly before raising the cup to drink from it. It seemed Shizuru had done away with her button-down shirt and exchanged it for a sleeveless top.

He hovered about the doorway. "Have you eaten?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I can't, not after I upchucked my lunch."

That explained this unexpected rising. "You can't go back to bed with an empty stomach, then. Would you manage to wait for the miso soup?"

She stared at him with bleary eyes. "No. I wanted to go sleep since my head feels like a jackhammer's working on it but Shizuru said I finished my tea."

For someone who was suffering from hangover, she was a sensible speaker. He walked to check the pots and no supper was left for the two of them.

"I won't take long," he said to her before disappearing to the pantry. He realized he was just as hungry. He'd been running around the forest, after all.

They didn't speak to each other while he worked on the soup and she on her tea. Today he'd come to a conclusion that she was as remarkable as a conversationalist and a silent companion. They didn't have to always keep a conversation going when topics had been exhausted. They talked when they thought they needed to.

It was something Kurama could live with.

"Professor," he said, patting her gently on the arm that she'd slept on. "Professor Aoshi."

She stirred. But didn't wake.

"Professor, wake up."

She hummed something incomprehensible not even his demonic skills could catch.

"Professor, you need to eat."

She rolled her head and very slowly lifted it from her arm with a massive frown and closed eyes. Kurama placed the bowl of soup in front of her.

"I've added an infusion of herbs to help with the headache," he said as he sat next to her. "Take it and you'll feel better."

She didn't open her eyes for half a minute and just frowned on thin air. When she did, she only lifted the bowl to her lips and drank the soup, ignoring the spoon he'd offered. In no time, she was through and wiped her lips with a hand before she rose from the bench and wobbled away without saying anything more.

He watched as she opened the door with a little difficulty and ambled out without closing it.

Her footsteps faded out as her hunched, limp form did, and Kurama figured he could afford to deal with this new side to her.

He wasn't surprised when the next morning she was the first person in the kitchen, preparing a simple breakfast. When she whirled to see him enter, she said, "That infusion was effective. May I have the recipe?"

Kurama figured it was her way of saying thanks.

* * *

A/N: So there's the fluff. And politicking. And Kurama being a little more... Chiaki-concerned. More to follow.

Oh, and did you know that Zwischenzug is almost over? As in, four more chapters (at least) and perhaps an epilogue.

I'll bring you the good news when we finish this ride. Hint: there are clues left about here and there.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter and those who added this to their faves and alerts! You make me happy, as always. :)

 _Review response for Kal (Guest):_ Again, thanks for your review! I'm happy that you've enjoyed the chapter. I hope you liked the Kurama-Chiaki dynamics in this chapter as well.

See you!


	16. V - Bullshit

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part V

"When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. That's what I think. It's just a form of sincerity."

― Haruki Murakami, _Norwegian Wood_

o-o

 _Bullshit_

Three weeks of not doing anything except for going over and over the list Koenma had provided was such a bore—not to mention ultimately pointless as she found out nothing; it was just a list of scientists she referenced in her published studies and met at one point in her life, some introduced to her by Yamamoto and Urawa or by some other colleague.

Koenma had earlier reported that there were no filed cases of missing scientists over two years, as far as the human police force could see. And the Russian guy she talked about? It seemed he'd gone insane and the family, fearful as they were, didn't release the news for the public to feast on. Perhaps there was some hope in the scientific community if something as gossip-worthy as such didn't reach her and her friends.

Bored as she was, Chiaki managed to clean the whole temple a few corners at a time the past week. She had also gone to help Kurama with his aimless gardening and beat Urameshi and the other men in fifty percent of the games in the console.

One time, she spent a whole afternoon staring at Hiei who was perched on a branch of the tallest maple tree in the backyard and he stared back with glazed eyes, his chin buried into his white scarf while she sweated in her tank top and shorts. Kurama later laughed at her when she told him, saying it must have been Hiei's doing all along.

In her many ventures in the entirety of the temple, she stumbled upon a hidden room overlooking the vast property Genkai had left and found the most unusual and largest bird she had ever laid her eyes on. Her butt felt so raw after she fell backwards in her fright, and Urameshi had a good time laughing his jaws off.

It turned out the phoenix-looking, blue-feathered bird with a peculiar mop of black hair and incessant soft chirping of, "Puu!" was, simply put, Puu. Urameshi's "spirit beast." Or spirit animal. Whatever. Chiaki didn't feel like giving a care that much about its genus. The huge blue bird was cute, in a sense. She spent a whole afternoon watching him tweeting, unable to comprehend how something initially so horrifying could turn out to be quite adorable. She made it a point to go see him when she could, volunteering to feed him with Keiko.

She also came across Genkai's butsudan, and only then was she able to gaze at the wizened master's face that lazily gazed and smirked at the onlooker. She paid her respects and continued sweeping the floors. Botan said she was able to see Genkai's youthful face more than once and that it was probably the most beautiful face she'd gazed at in her lifetime. Chiaki was left to wonder.

This morning after breakfast she chose to stay under the shade of a tree and read a book she'd managed to find in one of the empty rooms, seemingly discarded. It was on Japanese mythology, and while she enjoyed a refresher on the subject, she missed her worldly scientific journals.

She missed Todai, even with her imbecile students always sneering at her. Granted, it was the summer holidays, but she _missed_ her old life the same.

"Chiaki!"

She looked up from the book and to Keiko who was waving at her from one of the many temple verandas.

"We're going to the beach!"

Her heart missed a beat and she ran up to Keiko like a kid on a summer festival. "Seriously?"

"Yes, the guys consented with a little pushing in our part," said Keiko, nodding. "They'll have to come with us, of course."

The two of them went inside. Upon a realization, Chiaki stopped, her hope for a different, less boring day snuffed out. "I don't have a bikini."

Keiko smiled at her. "We kept a few sets somewhere, Shizuru's gone to find them. Something will fit you, don't worry."

They stared at each other and giggled.

After two hours of harried, excited preparations and loading containers with drinks and the essentials for a beach barbecue, Hiei and Chu were left in the temple as the rest of the group paraded to the beach some three miles away.

Chiaki felt incredibly giddy from the prospect of a bright summer day in a beach that she chatted incessantly with the girls in their trek. She learned the beach was quite memorable, as it was where Keiko and Urameshi shared their first kiss as an official couple.

Strangely, she remembered her and Isamu's. It was a winter's night, a few days before Christmas. He'd gone out with her for dinner and drove her home. It was at her doorstep, out in the open walkway. They just stared at each other and laughed before he leaned in to close the gap. She kissed him back and he pulled her in his arms before he said goodnight.

"Chiaki, are you blushing?" said Shizuru.

"Was I?" she said, feeling for her cheeks. "I was smiling like an idiot just now, wasn't I?"

"You still are, professor," said Botan excitedly. "Did you remember something?"

"Someone." She grinned at her friends. "Isamu, to be exact."

The four females' eyes glazed over and she waved their worries off.

"Don't look at me like that. It's a happy memory."

It really was. She wondered if she would rather think of him as a happy memory from now on. He deserved it—to be a happy memory, to finally give her peace of mind. Perhaps thinking of him that way was one step to move forward.

Not to "un-love" him; she'd realized there was no such thing.

o-o

Kurama heard it. Yusuke was busy laughing with Kuwabara and Jin but he clearly heard her refer to her first kiss with Urawa as a happy memory.

He felt strange—his chest was full and empty at the same time.

He didn't understand the sensation fully and he tried shrugging it off by joining in on the chat the males had been going on about since they'd left the temple, as unsuccessful his attempts were.

An hour of walking later, they reached the seaside ridden of people but their group as it had always been. Deciding that the area by the rock formations were perfectly distanced from the tideline, Kuwabara helped erect the huge umbrella they'd managed to unearth from a stockroom while he spread the picnic blanket. After Yusuke set up the grill, Shizuru, Yukina, and Aoshi took over, taking out the barbecue from the ice chest.

He heard the sizzle of the grill as he watched the familiar beach with a feeling of nostalgia. It was one that they'd visited time and again, but it had been over a year since they last came here.

In fact, when he thought of it, it was over a year since they needed to seek exile. It went to show that even though their progress in forging better relations between humans and demons was not exactly one to be very proud of, things had been better.

Some of them went straight for the water while the others started a volleyball game, and Kurama opted to help out with the barbecue. Aoshi constantly checked the progress of the game, cheering for Keiko and Botan as she fanned the smoking grill.

Kurama found himself staring at the professor as he held out sticks Shizuru and Yukina prepared for her to take. It was the first time he'd seen her with her hair in anything other than a bun, this time wearing her jet-black locks in a tight French braid that reached the low of her back. Just above the loose, white off-shoulder shirt she wore, the black halter strap of her bikini peeked out.

He caught himself and shook his head before his eyes could survey the rest of her.

But he didn't help himself from noticing the blue board shorts and sandals she wore. He told himself the operative word was "notice".

 _Inari, what am I to do?_

He worried he wouldn't be able to resist taking in the rest of her when she finally emerged from her clothes.

His worst fears stared him in the eye when, after finishing grilling most of the sticks, Aoshi decided to go for a swim with Botan and Keiko. He turned away as she took off her shirt and shorts, concentrating on fanning the cinders.

"Kurama."

She _just_ called for him. He fanned with a slightly renewed vigor.

Her folded shorts and shirt were shoved under his nose. "Hey, Kurama, could you toss these to my bag?"

He took them wordlessly and turned to do as she asked.

"Are you all right?"

He _wanted_ her to go away already. "Yes, thanks for asking."

She suddenly laughed aloud, pushing him by the shoulder. It sent sparks to the back of his neck so the hairs stood on end despite the summer heat. "Oh, I get it."

This prompted him to straighten up, gripping the articles of clothing that belonged to her.

"It's okay to look. Doesn't make sense if I get offended if you do while I'm wearing this, does it? But please don't get any ideas. I'm not trying to look good for anyone and certainly not asking for it."

Kurama didn't move. Not even a sinew or a fiber in his body dared to will his head to turn her way, even when it would have ridden him of the guilty image she was trying to emphasize.

Aoshi continued to laugh before the scraping of her feet on the sand was heard, retreating as she apparently ran up to join the others.

"Some tush she's got, don't you think?" said Shizuru.

He wasn't sure what was more unsettling—that the professor thought it was her distrust towards men that drove him to act the way he did or that he found himself mentally agreeing with Shizuru when he _unintentionally_ turned to see for himself.

He visibly swallowed then went back to attending to the grill.

o-o

Suffice it to say that Chiaki was having the most fun she'd had in a month. The summer sun beat down on her skin that was beginning to flush but it didn't matter. It was as it should be.

A few more laps and she got out of the water, running to the picnic spot to put on her board shorts and help herself to some barbecue. Sitting next to Shizuru who was drenched with seawater as everyone else, she silently nibbled on the grilled meat.

It had gotten a lot hotter since the first time she took a dip so she was thankful for the ice-cold soda Kurama handed to her before walking away to join the boys, who, in their shorts, were perched on top of the rocks, laughing about things she didn't hear to understand.

Chiaki squinted to look at their lot, thinking she'd never seen bodies as toned as theirs. Still, Kurama seemed to look misplaced, with his long, crimson hair and strong effeminate looks despite the clear lack of boobs.

She voiced this out to the girls so that they all choked on their drinks and food. The consequent laughter that followed seemed to be sudden and boisterous enough that the male crowd turned to them just as Botan rolled off the blanket from her hysterical giggling.

"Kurama's been checking you out, did you notice? Shishi, too," said Shizuru as soon as the laughter died down.

Yukina, dressed in her modest Capri pants and T-shirt, surreptitiously looked at the subjects of their hushed conversation as though to see for herself. Her mouth formed a small 'O'.

Chiaki wrinkled her nose. "Let them stare. I'm not asking for _it_ , anyway."

But really, she felt affected now that other people actually noticed. She couldn't care less about Shishiwakamaru, but Kurama's stolen glances didn't sit well with her. Not even when she told him she wouldn't be affected.

It was true that she'd granted all of the world permission to look at her bikini-clad form since she'd chosen to wear one—it wasn't like she'd never worn one before—but now the fact that she caught his notice brought a strange sensation she hadn't felt in years.

Something she hadn't felt since Isamu.

Perhaps it was his teasing and his comebacks and his concern for her well-being. Chiaki chose to keep mum and pretend she didn't feel any of it but she was no stranger to gestures such as his.

She felt he cared when he found a way to keep himself from seeing her cry. He cared when he tried to offer his perspective. He cared when he tried to make her feel better about herself. He cared when he defended her in front of Yomi. And the miso soup, the analgesic infusion… she could go on but she just knew he did care for her in his subtle, non-grandiose ways.

In his silence, too.

Like an old friend. Like someone who knew her secrets.

Like a man she could trust again.

 _No._ Every single man she trusted found a way to betray her in one form or another. Every single one of them.

Her father. Her younger brother. Yamamoto. Isamu. All of them.

She wouldn't let Kurama do it again. She would keep him at arm's length.

o-o

Kurama woke to the sound of laughter. He opened his eyes, not seeing anything except for the small glimmer of moonlight that touched the panel of his door. He sat up and heard the suppressed laughter again.

It was Aoshi's.

His hand fumbled for his keitai that he'd placed near his head. It was only minutes past three in the morning.

What was the professor up to at such an hour?

He pulled himself out of bed and opened the door to survey the dark halls. No one seemed to have gotten up after a tiring day spent in the beach. Her laughter echoed again from the kitchen, only four doors down from his room.

To be laughing at this hour was one thing, but laughing alone was unsettling.

Kurama therefore closed the door behind him and went to the sole source of light in the temple.

She'd left the kitchen door open and found her on the table, cigarette alight as she read a book that had seen many highs and lows, its impressed title already faded from the spine. A smile was playing on her lips and she laughed again after a moment.

Deciding that it was nothing out of the ordinary, Kurama turned to go back to sleep.

"Did I wake you?"

Her voice made him pause before he spun around to look at her. "No."

She frowned at him. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep."

He shook his head at her pouting face. "What are you reading?"

"Oh," she said, surprised that he was trying to start a conversation when he would find it hard to go back to bed after this. "Uh, nothing of consequence."

"You seem to be so amused."

"It's nothing. Go back to bed now."

Kurama raised an eyebrow at her. His interest had been piqued. "Tell me about it," he said, walking up to the table and sitting in front of her.

She rolled her eyes at him, clearly unhappy about his prodding. He couldn't help it; she woke him and deprived him of three more hours of precious sleep. Above knowing what it was that amused her to no end, he wanted to get even.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep talking.

"Oh, all right," she said, exhaling a straight line of smoke away from him. "It's about foxes and Inari."

About _his_ kind and Inari. He wondered how reading about _them_ was funny. Perhaps it was also the lack of sleep?

"What about them?"

Her frown deepened as she put the book between her face and his. He could barely see the title but he could now read the characters anyway: "Japanese Deities."

The professor soon began reading:

 _There are a lot of tales chronicling how Inari and the foxes came to have a master-servant relationship. Not all foxes are sworn to Inari's servitude; some are rogue and constant tricksters and troublemakers._

Kurama felt there was something wrong… She paused at the most random and unlikely places, as though she hadn't read and become familiar with the passage in the first place.

 _Once, a skulk of rogue foxes decided to wreak havoc and destroy a rice field. In retaliation, Inari cursed them to feed on the rodents that had always parasitized said field that they damaged, keeping them reluctant guardians until the day came that the field flourished once more. This never happened, as Inari kept people and any seed from ever setting foot and root anywhere near the field, and thus the foxes were made for all eternity predators of the rodents._

She lowered the book and cocked her head to the side. "That's it."

Kurama wasn't going to bite into it. "And it is amusing how?"

Aoshi flicked a lazy wrist. "Oh, I don't know. Probably because you're a fox and I was imagining how you'd have looked running around and eating rodents."

He extended his hand to her, palm up. Catching on, she pushed the book to his direction and he scanned the text quickly. There was nothing about Inari or foxes. It was only about the land god Mikage.

"You made it up?" he said, unable to say anything coherent. He felt cheated and angry and at the same time awed at her quick and spontaneous, albeit obvious, thinking up of a story.

She blew smoke out of her nostrils, as though trying to let him know that she was already fuming inside. "Yeah."

"Why would you do that?"

"To get you off my back, I guess? But it seems I'm not getting the desired reaction from you. A shame, that is."

 _So that's it, then?_ He closed the book and pushed it back to her. He was the fox here, and he wouldn't pass up the chance to play games with someone as willing as her.

"You said you were trying to imagine me as a rodent predator."

She rolled her eyes at him again.

This was rather premature, but he went with the surprise anyway.

Overwhelming youki flowed through him, from his head to his neck, to his shoulders, down to his fingers. His toes curled at the sudden surge of power.

His only indication that he'd transformed was her horrified yelp and tumbling backwards off the bench and on the wooden floor of the kitchen.

He himself was taken aback by this reaction from the uptight, steely professor that he vaulted the table to help her up.

To his utter horror and amusement, she scrambled away from him, her eyes so wide he'd never be able to tell she was sleep-deprived.

Kurama laughed and crouched down to be level with her. "Hello, Professor," said he in a lower register that induced her to shiver.

She opened her mouth and closed it again. After a few seconds of sizing each other up, she grappled for the bench, picked herself up, and sat back on it.

"Don't do that again. I could've died."

He sat down next to her and placed his chin on the back of his white, long-fingered hand. "I thought I would humor you."

"Ha, very funny," she said, lighting up another cigarette now that the previous one had been crushed from her fall. "Go back to sleep."

"Are you not going to ask me questions?" he said, keeping his tone acid.

She threw him glare from the corner of her eyes. "What are you?" she said.

He smirked, baring her fangs at her. She visibly shuddered. "This is my demon form."

"Youko Kurama, then? The thief?"

He nodded his head, a sly smile on his lips.

"Why a single tail?"

"I'm not in my animal form."

"I thought you wanted to indulge me."

 _To let you in on a secret, yes._

He reached out to grab her chin and turn her face towards him, careful not to leave scratches from his sharp nails on her porcelain, sun-kissed skin.

"But it comes with a price," he said, purring as he leaned closer.

Her eyes widened once more and she tried tugging away his clawed hand to no avail.

"Parley," she whispered, harried.

He stopped a hairsbreadth from her lips. "Pardon?"

Her vice-like grip slackened and she removed her hand from his wrist. "Do you honestly want to do that?"

"Do what, exactly?"

"Kiss tobacco-breath?"

He smirked. "Yes."

Something incredibly hot touched his skin and a sizzling sound echoed through the silence of the early hour.

Aoshi took the chance and slapped him hard across the face before she jumped out of the bench and away from his reach.

"Go to hell, you cheating bastard!" she yelled, sticking out her tongue at him before she bounded out the kitchen, running like he had any real intention of chasing her down when half the household had been shaken awake.

Kurama looked at the singed skin of his hand as the other nursed the sore spot on his face. These would heal on their own but he would never forget.

He wasn't even livid; he was dejected. Now that he knew to what extent the professor was sensitized to a man's touch, he felt glum.

"You deserved it," said the voice of Hiei whom he knew was looking over through the window. Kurama heard him run.

As upset as he was, Kurama admitted that he might have really deserved it.

o-o

Chiaki didn't get up from her bed until the early afternoon when curling around her middle was no longer effective and she could no longer stand the pain that came with hunger. When she opened the door and scanned the halls to find them deserted, she galloped to the kitchen.

Thankfully, Shizuru had the mind to leave on the table something for her to eat. There was even a note that said, "Rough morning, I heard. Now, eat."

To say that her morning had been rough was understating the fact the Kurama in his fox demon form almost managed to harass her. To hell with that guy. Granted, he was as immaculate as ever with his flowing silver locks and eyes that were the color of honey, but it was no excuse to treat her like some prey.

She understood that it might have been only his way of getting back at her for waking him in the middle of the night and for making up a story that probably wounded his pride as a fox demon, but then again, he'd expected more from him.

Although she'd have to admit, slapping him that hard was too much when she'd already used his hand as a makeshift ash tray.

Chiaki didn't even notice the food she was eating with her train wreck of thought. What was she supposed to say to him? What would she do when she saw him?

Sometimes Chiaki felt she wasn't really twenty-seven. Now was one of those times.

If only she could come up with a plan that wouldn't make her look like a basic bitch when she had every right to be after the stunt he pulled.

Hold on, she could pretend it never happened and be nice to him. Would that make him feel any guiltier?

 _And here I thought I can't get any more immature than this._

The back door slid open and in came the flaming red mop of hair. She didn't understand why he didn't avoid this area when she was sure he'd picked up her scent a mile away.

Chiaki got up and placed the bowl and chopsticks on the sink before she exited the kitchen, ignoring his still form.

 _So much for being nice._

o-o

"You're not in speaking terms with her, then?" said Yusuke as he killed off another of Suzuki's shadow warriors, his laughter drowning out his opponent's growl.

Kurama moved his horse to D2, leaving his queen open for attack by Kuwabara's bishop. His friend scratched his chin, trying to spot the trap.

"No," Kurama replied. The professor had been avoiding him like the plague and if they ever were in the same room, she made sure not to look his way.

Kuwabara moved his queen in the way of Kurama's. "Honestly, bud, what were you thinking? I still don't get it."

"Same fo' me, eh?" said Jin who was watching their chess game. "D'you like 'er, Kurama?"

 _Did he?_ "I don't have an answer to that."

Yusuke tossed the joystick onto Suzuki's lap and crawled up to them, his jaw set and his eyebrows meeting. "That's bullshit, man. That's bullshit."

Kurama spared him a glance before moving to check Kuwabara's king with his queen, ultimately winning the game. Yusuke was gritting his teeth and knocked out the chess pieces.

"Do you like her _or_ not?" said Yusuke with an urgency he'd only heard when he snapped in the face of incompetent troops.

Kurama'd grown tired of everyone else meddling with him. He was old enough to act on his own feelings without anyone asking why.

He'd chosen to enjoy camaraderie so long as he lived in this world. It had its benefits and detriments, and right now he wished he were alone.

"What if I do?"

Yusuke rolled his eyes and punched lightly on the table. "Don't talk to me like that, Kurama. I'm in no mood for your games." He pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Which, by the way, got you into this mess in the first place."

The room had gone eerily silent. Was this really the time to discuss this?

"It's not my place to tell you what to do but if you like her in any way, do it right. I know you know her better than any of us and you find it amusing to rile her up, but she's lost someone, man."

He knew _that_. And it made him feel extremely guilty.

"If there's any time that she needs someone to make her feel better, now's the time. Not to make her feel like shit or to make fun of her. You should know that."

He did.

"So if you actually like her, then do it right. If you want to be with her, pursue her. But if she's not what you want, quit playing games with her. I understand that you don't intend to stay. What I don't get is why you have to make it hard for the both of you. Got it?"

Kurama nodded his head.

"Now, answer me, do you like her?"

He buried his face in his hands. _He did._ "I do."

He'd always liked the professor, fascinated by her vivacity and her resilience. She was witty and intelligent, disagreeable and spontaneous. Kurama couldn't deny that she had occupied a significant fraction of his thoughts.

"Do you want to be with her?"

Kurama couldn't lie and it made him feel so helpless and pathetic. "Yusuke, I don't know."

"Quit shitting me, man. I'm not asking if you can be with her. I'm asking _if_ you _want_ to be with her. So, what's it, fox boy?"

 _Did he want to be with her?_

" _If you finally find someone who makes you really happy, don't let go."_

Was being happy with someone enough to want to be with them?

All of his friends made him happy. Aoshi Chiaki made him happy with loud arguments and muted debates. She made him happy with serene silences and even those that were loaded. She made him happy with secrets she'd shared when she didn't have to.

"Kurama?"

"I think I do."

"Then quit being a baby and ask her out!"

Kurama sighed and looked at his friend. "I can't be with her."

It was the truth. They weren't allowed to date clients. And beyond that, he knew his friends understood why, and he was beginning to think this conversation was pointless and should have never happened to begin with.

Much to his surprise, Yusuke was smiling sheepishly when he patted Kurama on the shoulder. "It's not a matter of what you can and can't do, man. It's about doing whatever it takes to do what you want," he said, smiling. "I can't be with Keiko forever but I want to be with her. That's why we found a compromise. It's not the healthiest relationship in all three worlds but we're happy and that's what matters."

"Yeh're jus' afraid the take the plunge, Yusuke, yeh are," said Jin, laughing.

"Maybe I am. But that doesn't mean I won't. We've only got at least fifty years, so why waste my chance, right?"

Kuwabara abruptly rose to his feet, his hand clenched in a fist. "Urameshi, you're a genius. I'm going to ask Yukina to marry me."

Everyone's face fell.

"She's not even your _girlfriend_ ," said Touya.

The psychic didn't backtrack. "I'm going to ask her out again, then. Love will conquer all!"

And then he slid the door open and banged it close, bounded out of the room to leave all of his friends wondering how his umpteenth attempt would pan out this time.

"It's cheesy, Kurama," said Yusuke, rubbing at his nose as he turned red. "But love indeed conquers all. Though I have to admit, this time you'll have to wait. She's a client, after all."

"That, Urameshi, is the corniest thing that left your mouth," said Shishiwakamaru before he exited with Touya and Suzuki. Rinku ran after them, making gagging noises.

Chu was finally able to speak after hours of blank staring. "Talks like this go well wi' gin."

Kurama wasn't sure it was the brightest idea.

o-o

She didn't know why she let Jin drag her along with all of the girls to come go drinking one evening. She didn't know why she had to sit next to a red-faced redhead who clearly had more than enough alcohol in his system that he didn't even notice the red-haired unicorn shoving her down on the floor next to him.

"A'right, let's start!" said Urameshi cheerily with a goofy smile on his face, clapping his hands, alcohol-influenced like all the boys were. Chiaki was earlier informed they were mourning Kuwabara's latest rejection.

The ginger had actually already conked out in a corner, and Yukina was left to aid to her ailing suitor while Shizuru affected nonchalance like she always did.

Urameshi started dealing the cards. Chiaki got a two, two fives, and a king. Urameshi started the game and placed a card on the table. "Ace."

"Three two's," said Jin, laying down three cards.

Chiaki smirked. There was no way he got three of them. "That's bullshit, man."

Urameshi revealed the cards. Jin was bluffing. "Now, drink or dare?" he asked Chiaki.

"Drink for now," she said. Jin grinned at her and took the cards from the table before he downed a shot glass of vodka.

Suzuki put down a card. "Three."

"Four," said Rinku.

"Two five's."

"Bullshit, Touya," said Chiaki again.

Touya revealed his cards. There were indeed two fives. _Dang._

"Drink," said the ice man.

Chiaki did.

"Six," said Kurama quietly.

"Seven," said Chiaki.

"Two eights," said Keiko.

And so it went on in the same manner, Chiaki growing less aware of the redhead next to her and more of the other's cards, trying to counter the lethargy that came with downing more vodka by the minute as she had so much fun challenging the others and letting out the curse word without censorship.

That is, before Shizuru called _him_ out with a firm, echoing, "Bullshit."

He indeed was bluffing, and Shizuru chose dare, much to Chiaki's chagrin.

"I dare you to kiss the person you like the most in this room."

This exacted a boisterous fit of laughter from all the men as the females looked on, flabbergasted.

 _Something's not right…_

"Anywhere is acceptable?" asked Kurama, the slur in his voice more prominent now. He swayed forward, and Chiaki had half the mind to grab him by his shirtsleeve lest he toppled over the table.

But he pulled himself right and Chiaki looked away.

"Yeah, whatever, kid."

Kurama hiccupped as everyone else sat watching for his next move. Chiaki didn't know why, but he prayed he would get up and wobble his way to someone from the opposite side of the table… like Botan or Shizuru. Or even Jin or Touya. Kurama seemed to swing that way anyway. Attracting everyone with his effeminate looks—man _or_ woman, now that she thought about it.

 _Even me?_

A rough, warm, and almost clammy palm descended on her cheek, and Chiaki slightly jumped.

Kurama turned his face to hers as he turned hers his way.

 _He_ likes _me?_

She didn't have time to react, not even to process the events unfolding in front of her.

His lips were hovering in front of her, ready for the catch, and she was convinced she would do themselves a favor by pushing him away…

But his warm lips landed on her forehead, just below her hairline. It stayed there for a few moments, only touching but resolute. Like he was fearful for her reaction but nonetheless wished she would feel this kiss that was potentially the last he could give her.

The world seemed to stop, time seemed to have slowed, the silence between them no longer peaceful or calm but pregnant and charged.

 _Boy_ , did she feel them. His lips and the hand cradling her cheek. She felt them when they withdrew, with a soft sound that was too mild to shatter their silence.

And she felt the world spinning once more, heard the drunken cheers of the boys, saw the stunned faces of her girl friends and Shizuru's knowing look.

And she saw him cover the lower half of his face—his nose and his mouth—with the hand he'd touched her with. She saw him turn away and bow his head, his ears red for some unfathomable reason.

"Chiaki, your turn," said Shizuru, a call that pierced through the momentary and silent void she and this girly man shared, wrenching her away and back to the real world, in this room in a temple far from Tokyo.

She turned to her cards and put down one. "King."

She briefly wondered if he'd only meant to kiss her on the forehead the other night. The possibility still made her cheeks flush redder.

 _He likes me._

 _Youko freaking Kurama, the freaking fox demon thief from a world I've never set foot on likes me. The Kurama with two equally immaculate forms kissed me in front of everybody._

Whose body was now tilted away from hers and towards Chu's.

Who was now slurring in his speech so much that she tried to convince herself it was a drunken mistake.

Or perhaps it was because she was nearest to him and would be unable to go up to someone else.

She didn't even realize she was called out. Suzuki told her to kiss the redhead back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Kurama slightly jumped, his drooping eyes finally landing on hers after their adamant avoidance.

But at that moment, there was only a single thought that registered in her vodka-fogged brain: Isamu.

She turned to Suzuki. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I can't do this. Excuse me."

She struggled to get up and stand on her feet, the alcohol almost taking over. But she overcame the hurdle and went straight for the door, leaving everyone behind in her probable confusion.

Nobody went after her, and she made it to her bedroom without incidence. She shut the door and stayed sitting on the floor for who knows long.

Isamu's face returned from memory—smiling and flushed after their first kiss. It melted away, replaced by Kurama's pristine face, flushed as well—from alcohol, she tried convincing herself.

 _He couldn't have meant that. He couldn't. He was merely intoxicated and she was next to him._

 _But he's been flirting with you. He's tried to kiss you._

 _He was playing games with me. He wasn't serious._

 _He likes you! Get a grip of yourself. He likes you and he kissed you and you liked it._

 _I didn't like it. He's not Isamu._

 _Isamu is dead. He's given you the right to like somebody else when he died. He's given someone else the right to love you when he passed on._

Hot beads of tears rolled down her cheeks. God, she didn't want this. She didn't want to feel like this.

He knew she didn't trust men. He knew she hated men. He knew she loved Isamu and he knew she still did.

 _Do I?_

He was only joking. He was only bluffing. He was playing like he always did.

She shouldn't be this affected. It was a playful peck. Nothing else.

She wanted to believe in it. She wanted to latch onto something that would tell her the rapid beating of her heart wasn't anything akin to a desire to reciprocate his feelings. She wanted to find a reason why every time she closed her eyes she saw him instead of Isamu. She wanted to cling onto the memory of Isamu.

Perhaps it was because she didn't want to believe someone else other than Isamu would love her. Perhaps it was because she refused to believe that she was still capable of loving someone other than the last man she'd let into her heart. Perhaps it was because she was afraid of being hurt again.

Perhaps… she'd become a coward herself.

o-o

He didn't know what time it was that he woke but when he did she was already up and about, busy with her usual errand for the past four weeks—preparing breakfast. She didn't greet him, much like how she had been around him the past days, but left him to help himself before exiting through the back door.

Kurama heaved a sigh.

" _It's not a matter of what you can and can't do, man. It's about doing whatever it takes to do what you want."_

Even in the fuzz that was his brain still recovering from the effects of alcohol, he had known from the moment he opened his eyes that morning that Yusuke was correct. It took him alcohol to make his intentions clear, and he would have to tell her.

With newfound resolve, he abandoned his still empty bowl and ran after the professor, following the scent of her lily-of-the-valley shampoo.

The scent of the flower and cigarettes and lotion that registered when he inspected evidence. The scent that always led him to her.

He found her sitting in the same spot she'd sat in so many times. Their quiet spot.

"You want to talk to me," she said, staring at the garden. No cigarette was in sight, and Kurama took it as a sign she wanted to take this seriously. It was always that way with her—no cigarette equalled no playing around. It added to his anxiety.

"I do," he said, walking closer to her and reclaiming his usual spot two feet from her. The silence that followed was no longer the peaceful silence he enjoyed with her—it was charged and pointed, as though explosive enough to shatter the whole galaxy.

Aoshi rubbed her collarbones. "Did you mean it?"

The morning summer air was suddenly too hot for him. "I did, Professor."

Her cheeks flushed red as he felt his did, too. She bit her lip and shuffled her slipper-clad feet on the stepping stone like she did the first time he found her alone in this place.

"Kurama, I—you know I love him still, right? And I understand that you like to play games with me and blow my mind but… I can't do this." She excessively worried her lip that he was sure she could draw blood if she pressed any harder. "I'm not even sure of what I feel for Isamu anymore and it doesn't sit well with me."

He knew Urawa would get in the way. He recognized her history with him and yet it wasn't enough for him to set aside what he was feeling when at long last it was as sure as a summer's day.

"Professor," he said, willing her to look at him. She did, and her eyes were bleary, clearly on the edge of crying. These days she had been more open to crying in front of him, and Kurama had always thought it was a sign that she trusted the Kurama who became her friend if not Kurama the man. "Before you reject me, may I ask a question?"

She looked down, swallowed, and turned to him again. "You may."

Kurama braced himself. He needed something to hold onto, something that would appease his warring heart and mind.

"If there were no Urawa, if you never had to hurt because of him, would you have considered being with me?"

His throat had gone dry.

Aoshi's eyebrow furrowed and her eyes became unfocused.

A minute passed that she didn't meet his gaze and continued worrying her lip.

It didn't surprise him that it finally cracked and a trickle of blood almost touched the skin of her chin if it weren't for her quick reaction.

"Professor?" Kurama tried again.

She looked at him, her frown deeper than ever. Then her lips parted, and a smile crept up her features—stiff and restrained as though because of her cracked lip, but a smile nonetheless.

"You're not that bad."

The lead in his stomach disappeared in that instant, and his chest felt the lightest it had felt since he'd realized how ingrained in his soul this acerbic and neurotic professor was.

He smiled back at her—her image even more endearing with the cracked lip that didn't distract from the genuine smile she threw his way.

For now, this answer would do. The technicality of the internal agreement between him and the rest of the detecting team was clear. He would have his chance and now all he could do was hope.

Hope was such a positive idea.

 _Their_ silence returned.

* * *

A/N:

* butsudan – a Buddhist altar for paying respect to the dead usually bearing the deceased's picture and holders for incense sticks

It is happening! I don't really have anything to say about this chapter except that it's been sitting in my laptop since the hols and was only bidding its time to make its appearance. (Yes, I'm almost finished with the last chapters to this story, in case you're wondering.)

Thank you to everyone who left a review last chapter and those who added this to their faves and alerts!

I have one teeny, tiny request to all of you, dear readers, especially those who have this on their lists: Since you have most probably been following this story religiously, would you please leave a review for me (even if it's only for the final chapter, really)? At least tell me why you've hung around for this long? Surely there must be a reason. :) That is all, thanks!

See you next chappie!


	17. VI - Butterfly

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part VI

 _"Each thing needs other things—once called 'the sympathy of all things.' Attachment is embedded in the soul of things, like an animal magnetism."_

― James Hillman, _Cosmos, Life, Religion: Beyond Humanism_

o-o

 _Butterfly_

"That's unnecessary," said Aoshi, taking the avocado he was about to peel and the knife he held. She placed the fruit on top of the cutting board and swiftly sliced it in half, leaving the seed intact that it dislodged from one of the halves.

She then handed the fruit and knife back to him. "Now scoop out the seed then slice the mesocarp with the peel on. There's less chances it would slip your hold and much less of killing yourself."

Kurama smiled at her before taking care of the other avocados. She whirled around to turn to the stove and attend to the chicken, humming a familiar tune under her breath.

"Is that the same song from Kabukicho?" he asked as he transferred the diced avocados into a bowl.

She heard the amusement in his voice. "Listen, I know I'm not the best vocalist in town but I implore you not to make fun of me."

"But I didn't say anything."

"There was an implied mockery."

"Ad hominem."

"Shut it. Just pretend you don't hear anything."

Kurama smiled to himself.

o-o

"Don't. Be. So. _Freaking_. Difficult."

Chiaki let go of the branch that refused to fall from the trunk, dangling by a few stubborn fibers. She braced herself for another blow by the machete, ready for the strike that would hopefully deliver the branch to the ground.

Heaving a deep breath, she swung the machete—

She couldn't swing the machete. She tugged for the instrument poised over her shoulder. It wouldn't budge. Nothing.

"Professor, if I may."

She turned her head to find Kurama pinching the blade with his fingers with a calm expression that told her negating her ultimate blow was a piece of cake to this girly man. Her taking the offense notwithstanding, she sighed, exhausted from her hopeless attempt at pruning the infestation-susceptible maple. Chiaki let the machete drop to her side.

Kurama stepped forward and raised his hand. A flick of his wrist and the three-foot blackened branch fell onto the grassy soil with an empty crack of twigs and leaves.

"Thanks," she said, wiping the sweat on her forehead. "But you didn't have to help me."

He cocked his head to the side. "I didn't. I was merely concerned about the tree. I could hear it crying murder all the way from the front porch."

Chiaki glared at him. "Now then, Kurama, why don't you clean this up for the tree as well?" she said, indicating the fallen leaves and twigs. "And give the branch a proper burial while you're at it."

Kurama's face fell and Chiaki walked away, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

o-o

"Check," said Aoshi as she moved her knight to G3.

Kurama matched her using his rook.

She frowned at the chess board. "Stalemate," she declared, rolling to lie on the floor on her stomach. "Again."

"Does that upset you?"

Her muffled reply came in haste. "Kind of."

Kurama replaced the pieces back into the board. "May I ask why?"

"I saw what you did," she said, wriggling to jerk the cushion from her knees and rest her head on it. "You could've checked me many times. But you did something else and we always ended up in stalemate."

He knew she was more than perceptive. The professor had clearly mastered chess but it wasn't enough for her to win against him.

Truth was, he liked to play chess with her quite so that he'd rather keep a game going than driving her king to jeopardy as soon as he saw an opening.

"So you noticed. Have I offended you?"

She didn't answer right away, leaving the question hanging in the air. She rolled over and looked at him from her reclined position.

"It's strange. If this had previously happened, I would've taken offense but now… It's weird, it doesn't bother me that much."

Comprehensible was her point, and while Kurama would have liked to address solely this concern, her vulnerable position on the floor unsettled him slightly. Apparently, the professor had begun putting a little faith in him—albeit a little too much too soon.

It was what he thought her actions implied—she didn't immediately jump to the conclusion that he was jesting as he usually did and she had put herself in a compromising position in front of someone who was capable of taking advantage of her.

 _Not_ that he would do that. It was against his morality.

And he respected her decision to not accept him. But he would wait.

"Are you trying to make me feel better about myself?" she asked, pouting.

Kurama scratched at his temple. "Is there any reason for me to do that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Probably because I rejected you and you don't intend to give up."

"The rejection doesn't matter to me given the technicalities of our situation, but indeed, I have no intention of giving up," he said, smiling at her.

The natural rosy color of her cheeks burnt deeper, and she pushed herself off the floor. "I'm… going to get some fresh air, yes, that I'm doing."

She scuttled out of the room, shutting the door with a loud thud.

He was positive she heard her curse under her breath before she bolted away.

o-o

"Chiaki, wake up."

Someone was violently shaking her. Someone was being too loud. Not now. She needed six hours of sleep.

"Oi, kiddo, get up. They're leaving."

She opened her eye a crack. The darkness resolved and she found Shizuru's face hovering above her, her straw hair sticking up at odd angles.

"Who?" said Chiaki.

"Yusuke and Kazu. And Hiei. And Kurama," said she.

Chiaki bolted upright. "Where?"

The elder Kuwabara rolled her eyes, as though she knew the mere mention of his name was enough to wake Chiaki. "Makai. There's a lead."

She threw her a panicked look before running out of the room and to the front porch. _Shit, it's happening._

There in the darkness of the ungodly hour stood the four boys and Botan, all gearing up for this unexpected trip. Keiko and Yukina were standing in a corner, silently awaiting the portal with the team of detectives.

Chiaki's frantic, barefoot running slowed when Kurama caught her eyes. He smiled at her and her heart, for a vulnerable moment, skipped a beat.

"Do you know what you're up against?" she asked, walking up to the redhead.

He shook his head, still smiling.

They didn't know and Koenma would still be sending them away to be flayed alive? Chiaki was no stranger to what they were capable of, but "Makai" had a foreboding ring to it. To hell with their being demons—except for Kuwabara, that is, and that in itself was more grave a misfortune.

"Will you promise to come back fine?" she asked, trying to sound hopeful.

"Yes, Professor."

It wasn't good enough. "Do you _promise_?"

"I promise."

She smiled at him even when a stitch built up her chest. Even when he assured her he would be fine, it wasn't enough. She needed all of them back whole and alive. She doubted she could stand the sight of blood again.

Or the prospect of not seeing them again. Ever.

His hand found hers and it sent a painful spark up her whole body. He squeezed.

"Portal's here, boys," said Botan as a swirling vortex opened up in front of her, the moving air fanning against her blue hair.

"I'll see you," he said before letting go and turning his back to her.

The image of his retreating jacketed back draped with the darkness pinched something inside Chiaki. A feeling of uncertainty, dread, and oblivion rose up like bile inside her that she stepped forward and reached for his sleeve.

She didn't know when she started fearing for his life. She didn't know when she started thinking of him as more than a partner in crime. She didn't know for sure why she forced him to look at her and bend down to her.

But she gave him a parting gift to take with him, to let him know that he was _important_.

With her lashes against his cold cheek, she blinked once, twice… three times.

When she pulled away, he asked, clearly bewildered, "What was that?"

She smiled. "It's a butterfly kiss. You'd think by now somebody would have given one to freaking plant boy. But then you realize the world is full of idiots."

The usual calm of his face dissipated, replaced by a smile that grew and he chuckled. "Thank you."

"Go," she said, releasing his sleeve and gently pushing him away.

This time he didn't turn back after nodding briefly at her. This time she didn't feel afraid, not when he stepped into the vortex, not when he disappeared in front of her eyes. Chiaki felt the promise he gave her was validated.

Shizuru walked up to her. "What was that?"

Chiaki shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. "Would you believe if I tell you I don't know?"

And she left it just at that, without knowing. For the first time it didn't perturb her.

Being oblivious, that is.

o-o

"Stop grinning like an idiot," said Yusuke as soon as their feet landed on the familiar Makai soil.

Kurama caught himself smiling indeed and he wiped it from his face, trying to regain mastery of himself.

"The fox is smitten!" said Kuwabara, laughing as he clapped Kurama on the shoulder.

Yusuke rolled his eyes. "It's the corniest kiss ever. A _butterfly_ _kiss_? What the heck?"

Kurama brushed off Yusuke's mockery. "You're only saying that because Keiko never gave you one."

Kuwabara's guffaw was loud enough to echo through the deserted plain of olive green grass and stones, sending off birds flying from the scantly distributed trees.

"Run!" yelled Yusuke before the four of them dashed due north, toward Mukuro's lair.

o-o

"Botan, I know I'm being a bother but is there any news?"

Chiaki was listening, trying not to add to the tense atmosphere in the room. "I'm sorry, there's none."

It was the second day since they'd gone, she counted. Two days and six hours, to be exact.

Jin growled when his ninja fell down again against Chiaki's, relinquishing his hold on the joystick in upset. But she couldn't cheer at her victory and along with the trumpet sound emanating from the dated television and game set.

Her thoughts were far too occupied for her to feel anything remotely good at the moment.

"Keiko, they'll be safe. They've been through worse and you know that."

It was a shame Chiaki could only imagine what "worse" had been like for the team. For Kurama.

It was difficult to rely only on theory, on intuition. But right now, it was all that she could afford to do.

She turned to the hunched form of Keiko sitting in a corner with Botan. "Keiko, come play with me?"

The poor girl smiled wanly at her before rising to claim the spot Jin had abandoned for the spectator's corner of Suzuki and Touya's chess game.

o-o

"I'm starving," said Yusuke from his dark perch in the small hollow of a rock by the river bend that they'd taken as temporary refuge while they awaited a signal from Yomi's troops.

Kuwabara shook out an onigiri wrapped in a bamboo sheath from his small duffel bag and handed it for the ailing detective to take. Yusuke embraced his best friend, praising him for his magnanimity.

"Idiots," said Hiei.

While Kurama thought Kuwabara would retaliate with a less effective retort, he was proved wrong when another onigiri was thrust under Hiei's nose. The fire demon eyed the meal for three seconds before snatching it and disappearing in a blur to eat his treat elsewhere.

Kurama chuckled silently, declining Kuwabara's subsequent offer. He wasn't hungry. It wasn't a matter of nerves. He was plainly uninterested in nutrition at the moment.

It had been a day since they left Mukuro's headquarters and journeyed to the west coast of this small, inconspicuous island that turned out to be an underground research center. While the Makai government was far from becoming centralized, it was agitating how this large-scale subservience escaped notice of the federal military units.

Since then they had waited for the troops' deployment to serve as cover to the four of them.

Kurama studied the map they had been given, reviewing the tactic they had concurred to follow.

After a few short breaths in rhythm with the steady downstream flow of brackish water against the riverbed, his earpiece buzzed and he sat up, exchanging glances with his teammates.

"This is squad three leader. Prepare to dispatch in two. Do you copy?"

"Copy that, roger," said Yusuke.

The line went dead and Hiei reappeared in front of them, already through with his quick meal. Kurama turned to his watch.

"Are you excited?" said Yusuke.

Kuwabara's momentary shiver didn't go unnoticed. "I think I'm going to puke," he said, turning to the three of them. "But I'll see this through."

"That's the spirit," said Yusuke, grinning.

"Thirty seconds," Kurama said.

The moment the second hand on his watch hit the mark, the four of them burst out of the hollow and into the Makai night. Yusuke and Hiei led the group, gravitating towards the leeward side of the densely grassy hill and down its steep slope.

They stealthily waded through the tall, red grass and changed positions, so Yusuke and Kuwabara brought up the rear as Hiei and Kurama covered for them within the last two hundred meters from the marble-white facility that was at least ten floors high and a hectare in area.

The four of them rounded the chainlink fence topped with barbed wire, finding the east gate as instructed.

The gate had been left open for the four of them to pass through, and Kurama set his whip at the ready as they charged in through this side entrance with the metal doors pulled up. They caught the rear of the second squad covering for them, and the four of them followed their track silently as they turned a corner.

A series of deserted white and dimly-lit passages they passed with little care and they arrived at a large room, taking them all aback.

"Shit," said Yusuke under his breath.

o-o

"I'm bored," said Chiaki, rolling on the floor after defeating the final boss of the game she'd been playing since the other day.

She was thankful for the distraction the game console had offered. Earlier, Rinku had thrown a fit upon his loss and chased Shishiwakamaru through the forest and back, returning with an injured bird Yukina healed with tears that had turned into gems, much to Chiaki's surprise.

All of it was a welcome distraction, really.

It had been a week since the four boys went away. Chiaki had managed to do every single chore she could have thought of—except for climbing the roof and wiping the tiles clean; she wasn't that mad to go dancing on the roof and kill herself.

Keiko joined her on the floor and the two of them stared at the ceiling for a long while without saying anything.

"How do you deal with it?" asked Chiaki, giving in to the desire to ask.

"With Yusuke always out and about?" said Keiko. "I'm not really sure, Chiaki."

"But you've been doing it for so long, surely you must know."

A heavy sigh. She'd been hearing a lot of it from the younger girl the past week. Come to think of it, she'd been sighing a lot herself, too.

"Perhaps I got used to his absence," she said, her voice weak. "After all, he always made sure to come back to me."

There was something about the words she used and the way Keiko said it that tugged at Chiaki's heart. "You must have so much faith in him, then."

"Not at all," she said. "It's the other way around."

Chiaki turned her head to look at Keiko. "What do you mean?"

"We've been like this for almost eleven years now, you see. I wait for him to return every time he goes. And each time I could have gone and left him… There's a bigger world out there for me to enjoy," she said before twisting her body to turn to Chiaki. "But he only has me to come back to. Not his mother who was never down the road to betterment and certainly not his father. Only me—Kuwabara, too—, and he never, for a single moment, thought otherwise."

Keiko's eyes glistened with tears and Chiaki reached out to touch her hand. She was right. From what she'd been told, Urameshi had every right to stay in the Makai but he chose to be with Keiko and Kuwabara, the only reasons he had to endure his complicated case of dual citizenship and identity.

"But you never ran away, right?" said Chiaki, squeezing Keiko's hand. "You never did when you had the chance. Isn't that a display of faith in him as well?"

Two drops of tears escaped Keiko's eyes. "I'd like to believe so, Professor."

"You should, Keiko. The both of you trust each other so much it would be difficult to question the extent of your love for each other," said Chiaki, smiling. "Mutual trust is the basic foundation of any relationship, right?"

Keiko wiped her tears away and nodded, returning the smile with one of her own.

A few moments of silence and Keiko spoke.

"I've been meaning to ask," she began, biting her lip. "Who is Kurama to you, Professor?"

Her throat had run dry. Keiko's question caught her off guard.

She hadn't thought of it. She'd been trying to occupy herself with every possible activity to pass the time and not think of him or Isamu.

Especially him, she figured with a stitch to her chest.

"I… This is going to sound stupid but… I don't know."

She didn't. Because currently, Isamu sat in her heart and refused to budge, to become a distant memory, to be buried in the past.

"Is it because of Mr. Urawa?"

She nodded. "He wouldn't leave me alone, you know? It's like he doesn't want me to forget."

A slight pressure on Chiaki's hand was Keiko's response, urging her to continue.

"Every time I think of Kurama, Isamu would just knock somewhere in my head again. He doesn't want me to completely let go of him, Keiko."

"I don't think anyone would want to be forgotten, Chiaki. Not you, not me, and not even the deceased. But it doesn't mean they have to constantly bother us," said Keiko, smiling tightly. "And it doesn't mean we have to remain hung up on their fates and their passing. That would be no different from forgetting how to live."

"But I still love him, Keiko." Chiaki was sure of it. She truly believed in it.

"You do, and I can see that. You love him like you did yesterday and years ago. You love him like you always have. Love is constant and there is no way you can undo that, but you have a chance to start a new kind of love," Keiko said.

"The kind that would last and be spent with someone you see yourself with every day of your whole life. The kind of love you will enjoy in silence and in sound. The kind that is steady and faithful, the kind willing to lay down everything to keep it strong. Don't you think that after all that you've suffered you deserve that kind of love? Wouldn't Mr. Urawa want you to experience that?"

 _Did he? Do you, Isamu?_

"I'm not saying this because I'm his friend but… Chiaki, I've never seen Kurama the way he is when he's around you. There's a new kind of life to him when you shut him down and talk back to him, when you treat him with your silence. No woman has been able to play his games without requiring years of picking up things about him—and it takes a lot to fully grasp his character. But you did… somewhat. Like you had a prior connection and you only had to meet.

"But he's just as complicated a case as Yusuke and I don't want you to feel the way I always do."

Chiaki couldn't say anything. She didn't feel like she had to.

"I guess all I'm saying is that you can try."

"And you're warning me against it as well," she offered.

Keiko nodded.

Chiaki understood. For the first time in a month, she felt a lot better. The weight bagging down her chest had somehow become lighter, and she could almost hear Isamu throwing a sarcastic, "I'm not a charity case," toward her way.

She rose up. "You know what, why don't we have karaoke? I'm going to prepare mango shake for everyone."

"Great thinking," said Keiko as she too sat up. "I'm going to ask the boys to set up the machine."

An hour later they were all set in the recreational room, mango shakes in hand.

"Who goes first?" asked Keiko.

"I will!" Suzuki said, flipping his tall blond shock as he took the mic from Keiko. Punching a code from the song book, he set himself in the center of the room, poised like an aspiring model.

The first notes echoed through the anticipative silence.

And Suzuki, the vain demon, started to sing: _"My pledge of love cannot be broken."_

Chiaki had to admit, he had a lovely low register.

But his movements she found superfluous. The rest of her companions seemed to agree, as they all dissolved into a laughing fit, unnoticed by the performer.

The next minutes easily became the most fun she'd had in a week, and in no time she was rolling on the floor in uncontrolled laughter. It soon became apparent that the karaoke challenge was no different from besting each other in singing horrid tones.

Chiaki was then hoisted up from her lounging by an excited Jin who shoved the mic to her hands, which she took with grace and a smug expression.

"Yeh're inteh heavy metal?" said he, as soon as the title and artist of the song of her choice flashed onscreen.

She only pursed her lips and faced the television screen, tapping her feet in the rhythm of the drumbeat. She opened her mouth to start singing.

 _"THIEF IN THE MIRROR!"_ she was screaming into the mic, jumping in the air like there was no tomorrow, miming the lead guitar.

Her heart flew from her chest, out in the open for everyone to see as they laughed at her audacity. This was her in her daftest—in her most rabid Aphasia fan mode. Yelling beautiful lyrics in rotten notes. She was no musical prodigy and she could live with it.

Another repeat of, "Thief in the mirror!" and a door slid open.

"We leave your for days and this is what you do?"

Chiaki dropped the mic. No pun intended.

Urameshi was standing on the doorway, a fake scowl on his face. Slowly, Kuwabara showed his tall form. And the midget.

And Kurama, smiling at her in greeting.

o-o

From the moment their feet touched the soil in the front lawn, he knew Aoshi was the major contributor to the cacophony that in the moment seemed to have surpassed the shock brought about by their findings from their venture. Yusuke had thundered down the hallway in mock irritation, and the three of them followed, curious as to the nature of the bedlam that had beset the temple.

Part of his functional brain told him Genkai was rolling in her grave.

Keiko burst out of the room to floor Yusuke with an embrace. Kuwabara stepped over, heading straight for his beloved Yukina, receiving a smack upside the head from his ignored sister. Hiei vanished after making sure Kuwabara didn't so much as touch his twin in a less acceptable manner.

Aoshi was rooted to the center of the room, the microphone fallen from her hand. Her eyes were fixed on him, steady but still searching, probing if he was real.

His smile widened and she snapped out of her trance, fidgeting from where she stood before she slowly walked up to meet him.

"You asked for me?" he said as she continued to stare at him as though making it out alive was a miracle in and of itself.

"Huh— _oh_ ," she muttered in a second of confusion and realization. "No. Don't get ahead of yourself."

Kurama's smile didn't leave his face. "You missed me."

Her nostrils flared and she rolled her eyes. "For your information, the song was not rendered for you."

"I know, Professor. You've made it clear the first time."

She growled and turned her back to him to head back to the room. Kurama followed her, and the group assembled to hear their story.

He made sure to sit next to her. She inched away and he closed the gap. She tried to crawl farther but the wall wouldn't allow her. Kurama threw a smile her way, cocking his head to the side.

"You're not being cute."

"I'm not trying to be."

Yusuke clapped his hands to call for attention. Aoshi sat up straight and turned to the mazoku, all eyes and ears. Kurama copied her.

"They're cloning these half-demons," said Yusuke without preamble. Aoshi stiffened. "The originals have been developed since who knows long and we found some traces of—what was that, Kurama?"

"Stem cells," he said. Aoshi turned to him, her expression an odd mix of horror and fascination. "Which came from the first line of descendants from a successful fertilization of a female demon's ovum with a male human's spermatozoon."

She covered her mouth, turning paler than she already was. His arm wanted to snake around her, but he fought back the urge.

"How did you know which species was the mother and father?" she asked slowly.

"We found the pregnant body of a mother, and since no human would be able to carry a creature as unique as those hanyou for the whole gestation period, we derived our conclusions."

"What of the child she carries?"

Kurama broke the fact to her gently, remembering the state of the body thrown in the midst the gigantic tubes and incubators that held developing clones. "They were both dead. Dispatched of."

A series of disagreeing and shocked reactions followed. Aoshi's eyes dropped to the ground.

"We are way behind them," said Yusuke. "While we're sniffing after their trail, they've gone up and down the next mountain ahead."

It took a charged silence and a few moments of holding their breaths before Aoshi perked up and gasped.

"You said the remnants of the half-demons were scrutinized in the laboratory?" she asked, turning to him then to Yusuke.

"Yes," Kurama replied.

"Did they perform genomic sequencing?"

"I believe so," said Kurama.

Aoshi bit her lip, her hand shaking as she gripped her shorts. "Did they find any particular sequence dictating the creatures' predisposition to a particular dominant sacred energy? Like Urameshi's atavistic genes?"

Yusuke's mouth hung open, unable to catch the professor's meaning.

"Should they?" asked Kurama.

Her eyes locked with his and her pupils dilated even with the afternoon sun streaming from the panels. "If what I'm thinking is true, then yes, they should."

"What are you talking about?" asked Yusuke, his confusion brought out to the fore.

"Demons and humans have unique genomes," said Aoshi, by way of explanation. "As in, the complete set of chromosomes each species should have. Humans—the _Homo sapiens_ species like me, Kuwabara, Keiko and Shizuru—only have forty-six chromosomes in our genome. Other species of humans like _Homo erectus_ and _Homo habilis_ have different numbers of chromosomes."

Everyone was now listening with rapt attention. Kurama's chest fluttered at Aoshi's ability to draw anyone to hear her lecture despite the morbid context the professor had to deliver it in.

"Demons are of different species as well. Take yourselves for example. Kurama: fox; Yukina, an ice maiden, and Touya of close elemental disposition but of different descent and ancestral history; Jin being—I dunno, a unicorn?"

"Professah, yeh're not being noice," Jin said, grumbling.

"Sorry, your species slips my mind," said Aoshi. "But you get my drift?"

The room occupants gave their versions of assent.

"And while you guys have different manifestations of youkai, you all have the same basal sacred energy—that is, youkai. And us humans, reiki. Though clearly, Kuwabara and Shizuru are predisposed to be more aware or capable than others in using theirs.

"As for the case of Urameshi, genes from both his demon and human ancestors contribute to his reiki and youki—and his control of both. What I'm trying to get at is that there's a genetic explanation as to why a human is a human and a demon is a demon."

She turned to Kurama. "And if this theory is what they're going by, then anyone who carries a favorable gene is an advantageous source of power."

Kurama froze. His hand reached for his stomach on its own volition.

Aoshi's eyes widened. "You were attacked?" she asked, turning to Yusuke then back to him.

She was too perceptive.

"Yeah," said Yusuke, unable to understand. "But we kicked their ass."

"But they managed to wound you!" said Aoshi, visibly shrinking at the moment. "And the previous attacks you responded to—!"

"Professor, please calm down," Kurama said, trying to take control of the situation.

She caught his sleeve. "Do you understand what they're capable of?" she said, her eyes unsteady and searching for a lie in his.

He did, and he was, for the first time, afraid.

"I don't get it," said Kuwabara. Yusuke seconded him with a fervent nod.

"Professor Aoshi posits that they had been targeting the four of us all along, that the attacks were all orchestrated to obtain our DNA," said Kurama. Her hand clutching at his sleeve visibly shook.

"But _he_ said I had to find you," she was muttering weakly that he was the only one who heard. "Did he want me to betray you? Did he betray me again?"

Her voice broke that she squeaked the last words of her incoherent mumbling. Kurama turned to Yusuke.

"We'll reconvene later. I need to speak with her. For now, please let Yukina attend to your injuries and have some rest."

His friends left the room, too confused they didn't bother asking a single question more.

Once alone and the footsteps had faded in the background of her grinding teeth, Kurama pulled her limp and shivering form to his bandaged torso veiled from her sight by his black button-down shirt.

"He didn't," he whispered to her ear, rubbing her back. "He didn't betray you and you didn't betray us."

"Yomi was right. I'm merely a pawn," she said to his neck, her ragged breath hot to the skin protecting his jugular vein, which at that moment pulsated with renewed, nervous vigor.

"You're not," he said, much more firmly. "Yamamoto wanted you to find us so we would know what we're up against. Without you we would have never been able to tell. We need you and he knew that, do you understand?"

She shook her head, and her hold of his sleeve transformed into a desperate clinging. He continued whispering words of comfort that were neither masked nor false—that there was no regret in finding her when he did, that she had served a far greater purpose than she was aware of.

His subtle ministrations instead induced a quiet sobbing from her, and his neck became her pillow, his shirt her blanket. He let her do what she had to until she had exhausted herself, her sobbing reduced to sniffles and shallow drawing of breaths.

All the while, he rubbed at her back and breathed in the scent of lily-of-the-valley shampoo from her hair—a smell he missed but would not admit to her aloud. Not now, not ever… with the latter being less likely.

For someone who refused to trust in men, her actions had otherwise attested to her faith in his sensibility. It lingered in his mind for the greater part of the moment she stopped weeping tearlessly and relaxed to his hold, finally adapting to the hollow that she was fated to fill.

In the silence they shared, Kurama understood why she had managed to secure her rightful place and stay to make her presence realized by someone as callous as him.

It had been a long while since he last felt that he could share his silence with somebody else without fear of disconnect. Words were his penchant, as games required words to be played well. But silence provided an entirely different dimension to his psyche—an indispensable find and sustenance to his nature—, and only someone with as strong a connection to this dimension as Aoshi was able to make him desire to spend greater portions of it with them.

Aoshi was one of the few. And as clueless as she was, he'd decided she would be his partner for a longer while, if not all her life.

She pulled away, covering her face with the hand that didn't grasp his sleeve. "Sorry," she said with a croak, her head bowed. "Your shirt's soaked."

"You're forgiven," he said, exacting a desired reaction—her looking up at him with red scleras and a congested nose. "Only if you stop doubting and begin having a little more faith."

Her eyes welled up with tears again and she cried a little more.

Kurama figured it was her way of acquiescing to his terms.

o-o

"Are you healed yet?" she asked him.

Somehow she'd ended up in his arms, trapped by his legs. She didn't find it in herself to protest. Since he'd held her, the thought of leaving his strong, lean arms unsettled her like a child losing hold of the hem of a parent's shirt amidst a throng of unknown faces.

His hot breath fanned next to her ear and she diverted her focus on the woody scent of him, completely different from what she'd expected.

She wasn't sure what she expected him to smell like after being away and chasing down evil people, though—id est, in his most natural state. Perhaps not something as masculine as the forest with a dash of musk. The scent of roses clung to him albeit more faintly than the first time she ever had the chance to inhale his scent, the first time she had been _this_ close to him.

"It will heal," he said, avoiding her question entirely.

"You need to see Yukina," she said, inching away from him half-heartedly, not willing to escape from his hold but aware that he needed medical attention.

His hand lightly pressed against her arm to stop her from moving any farther while his other hand rested on his bent knee. Chiaki took it as a sign that he was not wholly ready to commit to holding her. Or at least that he was afraid to endeavor such.

Chiaki didn't mind if he tried.

"I'm partial to taking wounds to the stomach. This is nothing I can't resolve on my own."

"Your stomach must bear many scars, then," Chiaki said absently.

Kurama's chest shook with silent laughter. "There's no denying that."

"Your hand," she whispered harshly, sighting for the first time the small, minute marks and nicks on the hand that he didn't hold her with. She turned to his other hand, and it bore similar scar tissues.

It bugged her how she never noticed until now.

"There's a history to all of them," he said, taking her by surprise at this sudden disclosure. "My mother—my adoptive human mother—had scars all over her arms and hands."

She waited, listening to a tale he never had to tell but chose to.

"I was trapped in the body of a nine-year-old. Only a year more and I would have been able to recuperate completely to assume my demon form at long last. Until then, I never put myself out for her. She was of no use to me, you see," he said, his breath becoming steadily ragged. "One day I again decided to show that I was capable without her, to draw the line between her and Youko Kurama—I stood on top of a stool to reach the cupboards to retrieve some crockery for my gardening. But I was too small; I slipped and ceramic plates fell and broke on the floor. I soon could have injured myself beyond healing if not for Mother. She cushioned my head from the shards."

Chiaki held a gasp in, letting him continue.

"It was at that moment I decided I couldn't leave her. I must have gone soft, you could say that, but since that day I never hesitated to come to her aid—not when she almost fell from illness.

"These scars," he said, flexing his hands, "they're reminders of how weak I actually am. That I am partly human in essence no matter how I think otherwise. The wounds I have acquired from my battles and from less daunting tasks such as pruning the bushes that adorned the garden she was proud of are constant reminders of the pain that goes with seeing through what I've set my mind to do."

His words echoed through the silence, long after he concluded his story. Chiaki grappled for the right words but he didn't need any.

Instead she reached for her left sleeve and pulled it down along the strap of her brassiere. She looked up at him, pointing at the lightened, globular scar along the breadth of her scapula.

If there was any time she would tell him about it, it would be now. The butterfly had long desired to be set free and it wriggled in her chest, restless and hysterical.

"Ten years ago," she said when he lifted his eyes from inspecting the distended mark. "I was a senior in high school. My father, previously my childhood hero and the pride of the neighborhood for his being a police officer, had become a complete asshole. He drank, he gambled, he smoked—cigarette and pot. I turned to a rebellious daughter—I left my mother drunk in martyrdom with my eight year old brother crying and started living on my own. I managed, somehow. I wanted to show him I didn't need a shit like him.

"One night, I decided to go back for mom and Tetsuya. I pleaded with my mother but she said she wouldn't leave my father, that he needed her more than anyone, more than anything. I took Tetsuya with me but guess who it was waiting at the door."

She drew a sharp breath. The butterfly refused to sit still. She willed her tears to stay put.

"My father. With some goons. But he wasn't there to prevent me from going with my brother. He was standing with his back to us, facing the thugs and ready to kill. My mother started crying, and my brother, too. I took him to the back door but found another of the debt collectors waiting for us. There were gunshots from the front door. I've heard them before—my father kept his gun from his cop days and liked to give us demonstrations when he was pissed. I tried to fend off the asshole blocking our way, but he smashed a bottle and when I thought I was done, mom took the blow for me."

He didn't say anything, he only tightened his hold on her. But it didn't make her cry anymore. It was too painful she was numbed from the mere memory of it.

"I didn't know what else to do but hear her last words out—I scooped up Tetsuya, threw him on the bike, asked him not to let go no matter what, and drove away. But not even a minute later I heard another gunshot and felt the burn. My shoulder was on fire and Tetsuya was suddenly no longer clinging to me like his life depended on it. I braked so hard that the bike swerved and catapulted me into the air."

She closed her eyes. She would not cry. She wouldn't.

"I was out after that. The next moments were all a blur but I remember seeing my brother's small form on the dark pavement, facedown. I felt so cold. He wasn't moving. There were headlights and the police colors. They flashed and flashed until I knew nothing."

The butterfly was almost out.

"My father was nowhere to be found. But the bullets that killed my brother and almost did me, they were from his gun. I just knew."

She pushed her sleeve back, letting the butterfly flutter out of her, finally free from its cage.

It had taken so long for her to let it all out. Not even Isamu knew of the betrayal she suffered from the opposite sex. Perhaps it was the reason that he betrayed her as well.

But was it all he needed to hear for him to change the drastic course of their relationship? Was being a pitiful case necessary to secure a lasting connection with someone else?

Kurama's lips found her ear. "Now I understand. I'm sorry."

"Same here," she said quietly.

* * *

A/N:

* mesocarp – the fleshy part of a berry such as the avocado (it is a berry, taxonomically, while a strawberry isn't but contains many achenes, hence an aggregate fruit)

* _Thief in the Mirror_ is a song by the Japanese heavy metal band Aphasia. I actually don't have any idea what the lyrics are about since they happen to be unsearchable via Google or Yahoo (a shame that I have to resort to such just to understand Japanese, I know) but I can hear the title from the YouTube audio… so there. I had a hard time looking for a suitable song, really. I was lucky enough to have found this gem. Check Aphasia if you understand Japanese! They sound amazing! (I'm a bit more avid a fan of ONE OK ROCK, by the way, and was very thrilled for their tour here in the Philippines last 19th of January, haha).

Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed! You always make me feel complete! :) And thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts and faves! :)

See you for the last three chapters! :)


	18. VI - Guns

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part VI

 _"Yeah, as long as we know we're trapped, we still have a chance to escape."_

― Sara Grant, _Neva_

o-o

 _Guns_

"I don't believe she's been anything but helpful since she came to us," said Yusuke, frowning at Kurama when he came to relay the reason for Aoshi's distress. She'd gone to sleep an hour ago, exhausted from the emotional encounter they'd quietly shared.

"I agree with Urameshi," said Kuwabara. "Besides, if they've been meaning to get cloning materials from us, they should have gone through with it since the first attack."

Hiei cleared his throat. "Don't you think she's projecting too far from what is happening? How sure is she that they're after us?"

Kurama felt his friend's statement was loaded. "What do you mean?"

"Yusuke was correct to say that the enemies are steps ahead of us. Don't you think they'd predicted our movements quite accurately? On top of the last attack coinciding with our retrieval of evidence from Urawa, they were able to escape our most recent raid."

"What are you exactly driving at, Hiei?" said Yusuke, his frown deeper than ever.

"That they've anticipated every single one of our moves whether it involved _her_ or not," said Hiei, his patience quickly dwindling. "We're banking too much on the certainty of what she says that we forget this isn't something she's entitled to figure out like a puzzle all by herself."

Brashness was one of Hiei's most endearing traits, and he couldn't keep himself from holding his friend in high regard after the most sensible position he'd voiced out in a while.

"So you're saying we don't listen to her now?" said Kuwabara.

Hiei rolled her eyes. "Did you even understand what I just said?" he asked, already at his limit. "Whether what she's saying is the true intention of our enemies doesn't matter anymore. We just have to face them when they come."

"But you do realize that our next potential encounters could be with clones of ourselves, don't you?" said Kurama.

"I do, and I'm telling you, it's not the wisest move they've had in a while," he said, tut-tutting. "I hate to admit it, but we're not the strongest lot in both the Ningenkai and the Makai. It was an utterly stupid tactic."

Yusuke and Kuwabara's faces morphed in a millisecond and both of them were suddenly doubled over, laughing for a good thirty seconds so that a vein popped in Hiei's temple.

"Man, I'm not laughing at you," said Kuwabara for unneeded clarification.

After the moment of mirth was exhausted, Kurama asked a question they'd forgotten to figure out on their own, "Why then do they want to clone us?"

"Because they're obsessed with superstars?" said Yusuke.

Kuwabara's eyes widened and he turned open-mouthed to his best friend. "Bro, you just said it."

"What?" asked Yusuke in confusion.

"Remember 'Chapter Black'? Humans against demons, demons against humans," said Kuwabara, and Kurama found himself nodding, convinced the younger man already understood. "Not to brag but we're indeed quite known to be supporters of Enki's cause and it's been a while since something this big exploded. There have been attempts to shake up the peace but nothing quite like this."

"You're saying they want to overthrow the alliance?"

"Yes, Yusuke," said Kurama. "It's been the underlying reason to all this."

Yusuke's face fell and he sank lower in his seat. "Everything we're working for will go to waste if we don't stop them."

"You're forgetting something."

"What?"

"Hiei's suggestion. To face them when they come," said Kurama as all three of his teammates turned to him in intrigue. "It's wise to maintain a low profile but inform our allies—the human and demon forces. We anticipate their attack and deploy the necessary troops surreptitiously. This way, we can prevent danger from befalling innocent people."

"And what about us?" asked Kuwabara.

"I guess it's time to go back to the city," said Yusuke, a smile on his face. "There's no more point in holing up in here."

Kurama nodded.

o-o

 _Someone was laughing. She moved her head from side to side. Nobody was in the tunnel. The laughter grew deeper, louder, almost guttural that it felt she was hearing not a human but a monster._

 _"Aoshi, how dumb are you?"_

 _Chiaki whirled around to turn to behind her. It wasn't like anything she'd heard before—like a chorus of voices both high and deep, shrill and low. Female and male._

 _"You're a pawn," they said. Chiaki's eyes welled up with tears. She tried to step forward, but her ankles were deadweight. Her knees gave out under her, and she melted onto the floor. You're a pawn. You're a pawn!"_

 _"Stop it!" she pleaded, covering her ears._

 _"You're a pawn! You're a PAWN! YOU'RE A PAWN!"_

 _"STOP!"_

 _Something warm touched her hands. It was moist and warm and—when she withdrew them from her ears—red._

 _Blood._

 _"They'll leave you to rot, you stupid bitch!"_

 _Blood._

 _"PAWN! USELESS! WEAK! STUPID!"_

 _"STOP!" she was screaming, tears flowing down her face along with the blood that gushed out of her ears. "STOP! STOP! STOP!"_

 _And then there was silence—silence that came with a ringing deafness._

 _Chiaki opened her eyes very slowly—a minute flicker of light ahead of her became crystalline from her tears. It flickered again, this time bigger, brighter, and Chiaki's chest heaved with a small hope._

 _"Who's there?' she weakly asked, her voice a mere feather in the unmoving air._

 _"Chiaki, you dimwit," said someone._

 _She knew that voice—it sent a nerve at the back of her head throbbing with excitement and anticipation._

 _"Forgotten me already?" he asked. "What's happened to you, my dear dim-witted girl?"_

 _Her heart skipped in her chest. "Professor?"_

 _The light flickered once more, only this time infinitesimally longer. "Finally. What are you doing listening to them?"_

 _"Professor, how—?"_

 _"It's a shame but I do not know. Perhaps your subconscious?" he said, already knowing full well what she meant to ask. He always did._

 _"Why did you call to me?" she asked the flickering light._

 _He sighed. "There's trouble brewing. Do you remember our secret?"_

 _"The beaver?"_

 _"Not that one. The secret I've shared to you before, stupid."_

 _Chiaki's eyebrow's collided._

 _"You're my secret-keeper. Don't lose that to them, do you understand?"_

 _"Professor, I don't—"_

 _"Figure it out; you had a knack for it, after all. I must go now. And be careful. Don't trip on your shoelaces."_

 _The light dimmed, reducing in size. Chiaki scrambled to rise to her feet. "Professor—!"_

 _"Bye, Chiaki."_

Chiaki opened her eyes with a gasp and she felt cold. She looked at her shaking hands. Finding no trace of the crimson liquid on them, not even a mere drop, she reached for her ears.

Nothing. They were intact and not injured in the slightest.

It was all a dream. A vivid one, but still just a dream. No one would harm her now.

Sunlight poured into the room, telling her it was morning. She was alone, no one had been speaking to her.

Yamamoto had been too cryptic and Chiaki felt a headache coming.

A shrill beeping made her jump, and she scuttled to her closet, wrenching the doors open and rummaging for the source of the beeping. It was her keitai, and it rang with an alarm going off.

An alarm signal from the Kabukicho laboratory.

" _Don't trip on your shoelaces."_

Panic rose to her chest like bile from the puke that didn't come with the lucid dream, and she found herself throwing the bedroom door open and running out with no particular direction to go to.

"Kurama!" she was yelling, running to the kitchen. "Kurama!"

Several pairs of feet came thundering from different directions, and Chiaki skidded to a halt, tripping on her foot and onto the floor with a loud bang. Confused beyond doubt as to how she'd ended up almost kissing the ground, she picked herself up and tried to ignore the bitch that was her scraped knee. Her friends burst out into the hallway, running towards her in panic—including Kurama.

"Professor—"

She limped up to him and grabbed his shirt. "Kabukicho," she said, brandishing the keitai to let him and only him see.

His eyes widened and his hand found her shoulder, relaying the message that he understood and would take care of it. He spun around to look at Urameshi.

"We must go back to the city. Botan, could you prepare a portal for me and the professor? We must attend to something."

Urameshi stepped up. "Kurama, where are you going?"

"It's—" started Chiaki, irritated, but the redhead held up a hand.

"Trust me, Yusuke. I'll take care of the professor. This matter requires only our attendance and no one else's."

The smaller man pinched the bridge of his nose and stomped his foot in frustration of having been kept out of the secret. "Fine. We'll depart after you."

Chiaki wasn't sure how it happened, but in no time at all, she was being ushered to the swirling vortex she'd only seen a few feet away on one occasion. Kurama kept his hand on her elbow and asked her to step into it ten seconds after he did.

"What would it feel like?" she asked, afraid.

"Nothing at first, but warm cushion after," he said.

Chiaki ran up to the demons she'd made friends with to varying degrees and gave each of them a hug—even Suzuki who affected disgust and Chu who was practically overjoyed. Jin gave her a painful pinch on the cheek before patting her on the shoulder in farewell.

She gave a quick, "See you later," to the rest of the group and turned around to face the black-and-blue vortex that didn't look any different from illustrations of black holes.

Taking a deep breath, she sent a silent prayer for the nearest god within earshot. When she stepped into the hole, it felt like she was suctioned out—falling, falling, _falling_ —

—to Kurama's arms, the air whooshing out of her lungs.

Her heart seemed to have fallen on the asphalt as well and it took her a while to absorb the reality that she was back in the city—in a random, creepy alley with a man who held her in his arms like he'd known all along she would fall from the sky and land on top of him.

He righted her and she wobbled on her feet.

"You were lying," she said, glaring at him.

Kurama only nodded his head in apology. "If I told you the truth, it would have taken more time to convince you to jump."

Chiaki rolled her eyes.

He held her by the hand. "Let's go, there's no time to lose."

The two of them started running, with Kurama leading the way through the maze of alleyways that would take them to the laboratory. He tried to keep up with her pace, but with the imminence of danger staring her in the face, Chiaki could barely move stealthily.

One time, she tripped over a tin can and sent the object flying in the air only to land on the head of a stray cat, which hissed to them in retaliation. When they rounded another corner, she hurt her toe on a fallen brick and Kurama had to stop in his tracks and drag her elsewhere more secluded to make sure she didn't slow them further.

But even with her toe not at all perished, the feeling of dread never left her as they rounded the last corner.

She was sure she'd smelled it, but she didn't dare believe her power of olfaction when Kurama who had presumably a great sense of smell didn't falter in his advances towards the laboratory.

She'd also heard and could almost see them, but she refused to believe that it was too late. Kurama seemed to have refused to succumb to his senses, too.

Because when they stood next to each other, only mere feet from the crowd of people who'd gathered around the burning building that was never presentable in the first place—with smoke that rose higher than she could have ever jumped or tried to fly to—, Chiaki was certain a part of her died.

Her knees gave out under her and she cried.

 _God_ , she was so tired of crying.

" _You're my secret-keeper. Don't lose that to them, do you understand?"_

He couldn't have meant this, could he? Because if he did, she had failed him again. She had failed herself again.

 _God_ , she was so fed up.

o-o

He'd sensed the fire even from the first moment he arrived. But he continued on with the professor kept close. She would refuse to believe him, anyway, if she didn't see for herself.

It still disconcerted him to see the shock on her face, the tears that came as soon as it registered and the adrenaline in her blood dwindled. When he held her by the shoulders and hoisted her up to prevent her from collapsing amidst the commotion of people and fire trucks and gigantic hoses, he didn't know what he expected her to do.

But all the same he was surprised to see her trying to escape from his hold and run toward the burning building that held much importance to her.

It was in this moment that he realized how incredibly soft the professor really was—no amount of tears that she'd cried the past two months could sum up the failed look her face and entire being took on. He was convinced that she had finally succumbed to gravity's pull and taken everything she had held dear down along in her fall.

Kurama would have given her the opportunity to express her grief and undergo the due emotions as she witnessed her second home go up in flames, but even with the absence of anything out of place that would normally nick at the back of his head while in a crime scene, he couldn't allow a far more grievous danger to befall her in this state.

He shook her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "It's not safe here. Let's go."

She didn't give her time to react—he scooped her up and ran fast, away from the commotion. Aoshi continued crying to his shirt as she clung to him, silently awaiting their arrival someplace better, safer. He navigated them through narrow streets and alleyways, shortcuts in the back of abandoned buildings and community ruins, avoiding the traffic and busy pedestrians that would otherwise take notice of them.

It had taken them a long while before they reached his apartment complex, and he commanded the grass to open the gates so that he never had to let go of the cathartic professor, afraid she would only be in a worse condition if he shook her out of her momentary trance.

He walked up the open walkway of the fourth level and through the unlocked front door, closing it behind him through the use of his Eyevine.

The professor only moved from blankly staring when he deposited her on the couch in his living room.

"Kurama—" she said in a gasp.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Professor. We're safe now."

"Kurama, I had a dream," she said, her eyes glazed over with wet tears. "Professor talked to me again. He said I had to keep our secret safe… but the lab's all gone up in smoke. I can't think of anything else that he'd asked me to keep."

She could barely focus, shifting her gaze every which way. Kurama crouched in front of her, keeping a steady hand on her knee. He wanted to tell her that it was merely a dream and that she should not rely on something as uncertain as such but he knew it had something more to do with a distant memory that tried to resurface and come to her attention.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Professor. You may rest now. We'll talk about this later," he said, trying to placate the growing nervousness that showed through her body language.

Her lips quivered and she covered her face with her hands. "I'm just so tired of it all. Everything's gone."

Her muffled declaration stirred something inside Kurama. No words of comfort came to him, and even when he tried, he couldn't bring himself to negate the truth that she herself had already latched onto.

"Professor, would you like to see your room?" was all that he managed.

o-o

Kurama knocked at her door for a good minute before she slid it open. To say that she was not in her best form was understating the state he found her looking up at him with red scleras and a flushed face.

"Professor?"

"Sorry, Kurama. I know I look horrible but go on," she said.

"The group's come over. Would you like to join us?"

She weakly nodded her head. "But let me wash up, will you?"

"Of course," he said, directing her to the bathroom downstairs.

She came to the living room five minutes later, the remnants of her tears washed away by cold tap water. Keiko immediately ushered her to a seat on the long couch, and Yusuke fidgeted from his perch on the floor, weighing the chances of being heard in this atmosphere.

"We're tailing the arsonists—turns out they're humans," he said and Aoshi looked up from inspecting her entwined fingers. "The human police force and Makai border patrolers have been dispatched and keeping them under surveillance. We're only waiting for clearance to leave. Hopefully we get down to the masterminds this time."

"There's a huge certainty that the next attacks will be launched in the Ningenkai," said Kurama, to further explain the situation. "The Makai troops have yet to deploy their raid teams to another island that they've been surveying. We'll be gone for however long it takes for the enemies to attack, and we need all of you to stay here at all costs."

"No visitors, no opening of the doors and windows," said Yusuke.

Aoshi had looked like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated and sank in her seat.

"And Professor," said Kurama, so she looked at him with empty eyes. "You, especially, will have to keep this promise, do you understand?"

Her head bobbed down weakly. "I do, and I promise."

Kurama stepped around the couch and to the kitchen counter, taking a bottle of brewed concoction for incognito. Aoshi eyed the purplish liquid with trepidation but took it from his hand.

He would rather that she disguised herself than have the enemies realizing he sheltered a potential target in his home.

She uncapped the bottle, wrinkled her nose, and downed the contents in several large gulps. Empty bottle in hand, her hands shook and gripped Keiko's as her hair became blonde and curly.

When the transformation had come to a halt and her grip on her friend's reddened hand slackened, she turned to him with soft blue eyes that were neither calming nor alluring. Even when he knew it was the same person he'd come to care for, he felt slightly detached.

He tried to convince himself it was an indication of the efficacy of the concoction.

They all prepared to take leave and were soon given the bearings of their destination—some miles south of the city harbor.

He turned a last time to the professor who stared at him with a worry made more prominent in her clear, blue gaze. He took her hand and squeezed it, bending down to whisper to her ear.

"Don't ever think you're any less than you really are, Professor."

He pulled away slowly and lifted her hand, placing a soft kiss on her wrist, just above the thin skin protecting her pulse so that it throbbed against his lips.

Without letting her respond, he stepped into the vortex.

o-o

The efforts Keiko was exerting to make lighter the cloud of doom in the apartment were much appreciated, but Chiaki couldn't help but feel bad about this. There was something wrong, and she could feel it in her bones even in the confines of the supposedly safe sanctuary.

But she had to have faith in the capabilities of the forces that were up against the fiasco that could potentially harm everyone in both the Makai and Ningenkai.

Her eyes darted about the austere living room ridden of anything grandiose and extravagant, perfectly unpretentious like Kurama's real persona. Low-key and always trying to blend in, the redhead had become a source of calm amidst the hubbub that was her life. She feared for his safety, knowing that he could face someone as strong as he, if not stronger.

He had been extremely in tune with her, knowing exactly what she needed without having to be told. It would be a pity to lose someone as capable as he was to a danger that she never knew had always lurked about the shadows of this evil, evil world.

It unsettled her even more knowing that she was supposed to be aware of Yamamoto's secret. Her dream was indeed a mere dream, but it was a sign regardless of its sham. It was her subconscious trying to tell her that she was missing something important that the enemies thought they could have found in the laboratory.

She had long concluded that Yamamoto had hidden whatever it was that they required quite effectively that they'd decided to get rid of his last footprints in this world at long last.

Triumphant as the end result was, Chiaki couldn't shake that they were now more desperate to find the solution to the puzzle that even she didn't know the nature of.

She wracked her brain for the answers, tuning out the low volume of the television that her companions had decided was an effective tool to pass the time as they waited with not a single clue as to what could have happened to the boys.

She tried making sense of the effects of trying to use the boys' DNA to generate clones. Yamamoto would have known how to devise a protocol to produce something as elaborate as genetically-recovered clones of both demons and humans since he had extensively studied them.

Cloning took time and a lot of attempts to perfect, but with the previous attacks and the reports of the enemies' underground lair, Chiaki could hardly disregard the effects of the supernatural circumstances on the possible scientific backlogs of such endeavors.

It had been almost four months since the first attack and possibly the first time they could have collected DNA material from the boys. Chiaki doubted four months would have sufficed had it been under "normal" scientific setting.

But what was the catch?

She couldn't even begin to think what the reason was for the responsible to go through something as horrific as trying to clone possible equals of the boys, but she could at least come up with a speed bump that could have retarded their progress. A speed bump that Yamamoto had known long before he decided to quit and succumb to death. Isamu, too, if the circumstances of their deaths were anything to go by.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember what she knew:

 _Dolly the Sheep died half as old as most sheep. This is because she had shorter telomeres in her chromosomes courtesy of the sheep from which Dolly's genes were taken. Shorter telomeres indicate that the genome has undergone repetitive replication since birth, and is hence indicative of the age of any organism._

 _Genes would normally undergo mutation during development, brought about by several mutagenic factors such as drugs or radiation._

 _Mutant genes from a source would naturally be passed on to the clone—favorable and otherwise._

Chiaki would have gone on and on about the nuances there was to a feat as complex as cloning, but she couldn't find any more advantage to it except perhaps the obvious: to preserve the species (especially those endangered).

So why would they wish to clone powerful people given the drawbacks to the due process?

 _Ding dong!_

Her heart flew out of her chest from the sound that disrupted the monotone of the television drama. The five of them silently exchanged glances, and Shizuru surreptitiously rose from her perch on the floor, snuffing out the end of her cigarette on the ash tray.

Botan stood as well, bending over as she followed Shizuru to the door. Yukina beckoned for Chiaki and Keiko to move behind her, and they glued their backs to the wall, craning their necks as far as they could go to see Shizuru and Botan on the door without revealing their perch.

Shizuru barely extended her arm to reach for the latch after peeping through the hole when the door swung open to reveal a woman who jumped in surprise after seeing the equally shocked faces of Shizuru and Botan, her bag of groceries almost keeling over.

"Mrs. Hatanaka!" said Botan cheerfully but quietly as Shizuru took the grocery bag from her. "How nice to see you!"

Chiaki blinked repeatedly to absorb the features of their unexpected guest. Dark brown hair, dark almond eyes, a kind albeit wrinkly smile…

She'd seen her face somewhere before. Chiaki whipped her head to turn to the frame sitting next to the television set. Three people were in it—a baby bundled in sheets, a red-haired man, and a younger _Mrs. Hatanaka_.

 _Oh._ "She's not Kurama's—"

"Shuichi's," said Keiko quickly just as the three women turned to enter the living room.

The three of them stood straight, greeting the elder lady.

"How nice to see you, Yukina, Keiko," she said, bowing to them as well. She turned to Chiaki and inclined her head in inquiry. "I'm sorry, but your name I fail to remember, dear."

"Oh," said Chiaki, waving her anxiety off. "That's because you haven't met me before, ma'am. I'm—"

"She's a cousin of mine, Mrs. Hatanaka," said Keiko, linking her arm with Chiaki's, much to her surprise. Why did she have to cut her off? She could introduce herself just fine. "I'd like you to meet Yukimura Chiaki."

 _Oh._

Hatanaka's initial reaction of wonder turned to comprehension and she was suddenly bowing to her with her genial smile in place.

"Nice to meet you, dear. I'm Hatanaka Shiori, Shuichi's mother. I'm sure you've met him," she said.

"The pleasure's mine, and yes, I have."

Hatanaka turned to the others. "Fancy seeing all of you here, but my son, has he been here?"

"He was here about an hour ago," said Botan. "But he left, said there was an emergency with the boys."

"That boy should know better to remember to call me when he's in town," said Hatanaka, sighing.

"I'm sure he only wanted to surprise you."

"I doubt that, dear," she said, beckoning for them to come with her in kitchen. "Goodness, why are the windows shut?"

She didn't even require an answer as she flicked the lights on herself.

"On the way to the grocer's, I remembered he was running low on his supplies," she said, sorting out the goods from the bag Shizuru had brought to the counter. Chiaki hung about the back of the crowd surrounding her.

"I've been paying visits since he'd gone about two months ago, hoping to see him home like I always do when he _forgets_ to call me."

Something about the way Hatanaka pattered on told Chiaki she was extremely anxious to speak to another of her sex about Kurama's exploits.

"He told me he'd be gone again because of something he doesn't want me to know—oh, would you like something to eat, dearies?" she said, catching herself as she stashed away the eggs, Keiko and Shizuru helping with the vegetables.

Botan waved her head in declination. Chiaki copied her.

Hatanaka took the cue to go on with her soft, babbling confiding. "I was so worried, I really am. Granted, he's given me calls now and then but he never answered my questions regarding his spontaneous trips. It becomes so often that I find myself not caring anymore—which is completely unacceptable!"

The sound of wood against wood echoed through the otherwise silent room as she pulled open a built-in drawer in the counter where she placed a new set of chopsticks into.

"It wasn't the most pleasant feeling in the universe, but I swear, my son is just as secretive as he was when he was younger," she said, turning her full attention to Chiaki, Botan and Yukina. "It has driven me insane time and again, but I'm his mother. I knew he was special and I had to accept that. I trusted him even when he didn't return the favor."

She turned to look at Keiko and Shizuru who hovered behind her.

"Too untrusting, doubtful of even his friends. Honestly, did he think the neighbors would do something as outrageous as peek through the windows to see how gloomy his house is? Or perhaps try to barge in to find anything when neither can I?"

A crash made all of them jump and turn to the back door.

 _Bang… Bang—_

 _Shit._

"I'll hold them up. Run!" Yukina said, running in front of the door and raising her hands in front of her.

Chiaki froze.

"Out of the way, Professor," said Botan before grabbing her by the arm.

"What's going on?" asked Hatanaka.

"Beats me, ma'am," said Chiaki before she was painfully dragged away by a panicked Botan.

The five of them were suddenly running to the front door as the temperature in the kitchen dropped. Chiaki looked over her shoulder, past Shizuru and Keiko and Hatanaka, and she saw Yukina's turquoise locks being blown away by a blizzard that gushed out of her hands and onto the door and the wall, leaving it frozen.

Botan blasted the door with a gun she whipped out of nowhere, the tiny balls of blue light shaking the door off its hinges, and the five of them burst out to the walkway, running towards the lifts.

Her heart rang in her chest and Chiaki looked back once more. Yukina was already running with them, and a confused Hatanaka was panting her lungs out.

Three figures materialized from the stairs in the opposite end of the lifts—plainly humans—and Chiaki grabbed her arm from Botan's hold, pausing to ring the doorbell of somebody's unit.

The girls seemed to have caught on and rang the doorbells of every single unit as they ran in a single file, Yukina working her magic to freeze the hinges just as the doors were opened by curious neighbors.

Chiaki punched at the elevator buttons, biting her lip as one by one, the frozen doors were kicked and taken down by solid arms and strong feet, much to the neighborhood's fright.

At last the door dinged and they filed in, Chiaki pounding a fist on the buttons. The doors seemed to take forever to close, and she could hear the thundering feet of whoever was after them—

Yukina blasted a new trail of freezing snow to the figures just before the doors finally shut.

They didn't even have the chance to take a breath as they all bounded out the moment the lift doors opened, running like wild animals to the parking lot. The hot afternoon sun beat down on them as they raced through the maze that was the parked cars, oftentimes bumping against the side mirror, ensuing a grunt of pain from one or two of their party.

Chiaki ended up in the middle of the group, armless and only wishing to run away from the now five people who were chasing after them.

By the time they reached the gates, Chiaki was positive that after all this—she sincerely hoped it would end—, she was going to pass out from the adrenaline that kept her lungs from giving out. She should have quit smoking, she really should have.

Their group turned a corner. Botan led them without looking back through a series of narrow alleys and dark paths, through the back of a huge building in the edge of ruin.

The six of them stopped against the blackened wall, catching their breaths and their sides aching. Chiaki wracked her brain for something— _anything_ that would explain why they had to be chased down through five miles.

"Down!" yelled Botan, and the four of them did as she said, covering their heads as a series of gunshots echoed from her end.

When it finally stopped, Chiaki started running again, bringing up the rear. Their pursuer had a gun. _Shit_ , they had a gun.

It was illegal for civilians to possess firearms.

Chiaki's lungs were not being considerate. Breath short, she stumbled against the concrete just as Botan once again yelled the command to get shelter from the bullets, Chiaki ending up sprawled against the ground in her haste to seek safety.

Her face almost smacked the pavement if not for breaking her fall with her elbow, and she tried to get up.

 _They're after me, I know they're after me._ The man fell down and Botan beckoned for them to run as she lowered her odd-looking gun.

 _They're after me._

Despite the burning pain on her elbow, Chiaki managed to think a single thought: she had to get them out of here safe. She wouldn't let anyone get hurt because of her—not Keiko or Botan or Shizuru or Yukina. Not Kurama's mother.

With this resolve, she looked back for the fallen person's body only feet away from her form, deaf to Shizuru screaming for her to get up already, unmoved by her attempt to pull her back. She instead crawled her way to the man, hands and feet used to scuttle and retrieve his arms. Her shaking hands groped for the gun in the dark, old asphalt, for the man's jacket—for the magazines.

It was almost instinctive—knowing where to find the effects of a gun man.

She felt the cold metal singe of the gun at the same time as her other hand landed on the magazine pouch. The same time a set of footsteps registered to be coming from opposite directions—one from her back and the other up front.

Chiaki raised the handgun in front of her with a painful twitch of her broken elbow, ignoring the footsteps behind her. A gunned shadow fell on the asphalt as another man ran up to view, and Chiaki pulled the trigger.

The man didn't even have time to react as he fell down from the wound to his jaw.

She reeled from the force of the gun, almost toppling backwards but she stood her ground.

 _God_ , she just killed a man.

 _I just killed a man. I just killed a man. I just killed a man._

"Chiaki."

She heard the surprise and disbelief in her voice, and Chiaki refused to be affected by it. Yes, she could aim and shoot. Yes, she just killed. But she must keep them whole and alive.

She took the gun fallen from the man's hold, running as she heard more footsteps coming their way.

"Let's go, Shizuru."

She pocketed the magazines and the new gun and got up from her kneeling. She pushed the older woman forward, unfreezing the other four up ahead.

It was best to hope that they remained alive after this.

"Do you know how to use one?" she asked Shizuru as they ran to a brighter street in the middle of residential compounds.

Botan ducked to another alley behind a grocer's and the rest of the group followed.

"No," said Shizuru, panting. "Wonder why you do."

"Long story," said Chiaki, disappointed that there was no one else to help her but thankful that she wouldn't have to make guilty anybody else.

Aiming for the man's face had been impulsive as it had been years since she held a gun—since she had used it against her father. She was lucky to still know the basics: "Ready. Aim. Fire," as the scum had chanted endlessly when he arrived home drunk.

Chiaki had no idea there would come another time to make use of the skill she learnt by observing her father's drunken demos that she had no gall to refuse and by practicing with an empty gun while he was away. It was a miracle she had never been the receiving end of his gun except for once, which was when she had started to hate him and found herself more interested in learning to handle the weapon to use against him for later.

But she never pulled the trigger. She couldn't kill the animal. She instead ran away.

She had always been a coward herself.

"Shit," said Shizuru as they dropped behind a wall.

"What?" she asked in befuddlement.

"The brew's worn off."

Chiaki reached for her hair. It was dark again. _Shit, shit, shit._ They left the bottle in the house!

Another set of footsteps were coming up behind her and she whirled about, aimed for the hand and pulled. Metal on metal, the gun flew out of the man's hand, and Chiaki wasted no time to shoot him in the ankle.

He fell to his side, and she sprinted away to catch up with the girls.

More of them kept coming, and Chiaki made sure not to kill—she disarmed them and shot at their foot, hindering them from keeping up. It was the best her cowardice could offer her.

It became clear as day that they were after her when she shot about the tenth person who hesitated to release a bullet as soon as she faced them with a gun raised in front of her. Whoever wanted her needed her whole.

There was no use to running away anymore. They would find them soon enough and Chiaki had no choice but to come with them.

"Botan, set up the portal, will you?" said Chiaki as they went up behind a particularly narrow dead-end, crouching behind some trash bins. "We need to get out of here."

 _They_ had to get out of here.

Chiaki looked back to see Hatanaka. She was shaking from fear and confusion but refused to ask questions even as Chiaki replaced the already blank magazine of the first gun she managed to retrieve.

She appeared extremely pale, almost ashen. Chiaki came up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Hatanaka's eyes snapped to meet hers—they were so beautifully brown yet filled with so much fright that Chiaki had to grip the gun she held harder, keeping it away from the mother's line of vision.

"Ma'am, we're getting out of here, you understand? Please pull yourself together," she said, patting her gently on the cheek. "You're going to see Shuichi soon."

"Who're you, really? At least tell me, dear."

She bit her lip. "Aoshi. Aoshi Chiaki."

"My son, where is he?" Hatanaka asked, clinging to her desperately.

"He's safe, ma'am. I assure you that."

For a moment, the mother didn't look convinced but then surrendered to the requirement of blind faith to a complete stranger who happened to know how to use a gun. Hatanaka nodded, her shaking reduced but still there. Chiaki couldn't blame her.

She took the gun Botan had let go of while she attended to the portal and forced it to Shizuru's hands. As long as it was Botan's, it wouldn't be destructive of life—as much as she had gathered from the absence of wounds in the bodies that received the bullets made from pure balls of light, of energy.

"I'm going to stand near the corner and watch out for them. You stand here and take care of the others, got it?" she said, projecting as much command in her voice as she could.

Shizuru tut-tutted, this time clearly worried. "You're going to kill yourself."

Chiaki smiled. "I'm good with a gun. Rusty, yeah, but still good."

Shizuru didn't take her eyes off her until they heard loud footfalls from around the corner. Chiaki placed a finger to her lips as soon as the others realized the presence of someone else.

Botan was almost done with the portal and Chiaki stepped closer the opening of the alley, the cold metal gun raised to her side, ready to fire. She pressed her back to the wall, inching closer and closer, trying to sense the proximity of the danger.

A footfall against tin and Chiaki pushed herself up from her cover, aimed the gun at the man's hand—shocked as he was—and shot. A second bullet connected to his foot, and Chiaki bent down to take cover again.

She looked back to her friends and found them covering their lips to help themselves from gasping. She couldn't blame them for being surprised. It was almost an organic rapport—her and a gun.

Had she not been trying too hard to be different from her utter-piece-of-shit of a dad, she would have probably been in the police force. She had always revered him after all when she was younger, when he was still better.

The portal was almost finished—Botan held up a finger. One minute more.

One minute too long to escape and not surrender herself to them to cover for her friends now that the other pursuers would have heard the two gunshots.

Chiaki remained bent by the wall, breathing shallowly despite her lungs almost giving out. She should really quit smoking. But god knows she would another stick right now if she could.

She was so screwed. Her heart was racing a hundred miles per second. She was scared and she was high and she was many things all rolled into one at the pit of her belly that she couldn't relieve as she crouched in hiding.

 _Please don't let them come yet. Please._

Fate wasn't kind as several— _Shit!_ —footsteps echoed from the direction her latest victim had come running and towards their hideout.

Chiaki's eyes were almost blinded by the sweat that drenched and rolled on her forehead, and she didn't dare move to wipe them.

The footfalls were getting closer and closer.

"Professor!" said Botan in a harsh whisper.

Chiaki could almost hear herself cursing as the footsteps came sprinting now, aware that they were hiding in a dead-end in the middle of a neighborhood they no longer identified.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Professor!" said Shizuru, the panic in her voice echoing through the alley.

It was too late.

Chiaki whipped around to look at them. "Go already. I'll go in after all of you."

"We can't leave you here."

Chiaki bit her lip as the footsteps were no farther than ten meters from jumping right at them. "Listen, I'll come after you. I promise."

The girls just stood there, staring at her. Left with no choice with the enemies only a few more footsteps away, she pulled out her spare gun and aimed at Shizuru's hand.

 _Bang!_

The gun—now a useless metal contraption—catapulted through the air in a large arc and landed in a corner.

"They need me. I'll be safe," she said.

The footsteps sounded almost a hairsbreadth away.

"GO!" she yelled, setting everyone to motion. Shizuru stared at her, dumbfounded, and Botan pulled her to safety, next to Keiko who was cajoling Hatanaka to jump in as Yukina had done.

Chiaki smiled at them before she jumped out, the two guns held by her hands aimed at the crowd of men standing in front of her, their gun's ends only a mere foot away from shooting her into oblivion.

"You're after me," she said with gritted teeth. "Take me and no one gets hurt."

* * *

A/N: I really got nothing to say except for that we've only got two chapters left.

Thanks for the reviews and for adding this story to your alerts and faves!

See you!


	19. VI - Understand

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Part VI

" _Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less."_

― Marie Curie

o-o

 _Understand_

The portal had made the four of them land in a dock by the seawall surrounding the south coast of Tokyo Bay. Yusuke ran down the stone steps to the raised platform that jutted out to the waters, readily spotting the small crowd of police officers looming over a pair of black-clad strangers pushed down to their knees.

Kurama and the others followed Yusuke, joining in on the conversation he was having with Inspector Inoue.

"—clearly following orders."

"What else?" Yusuke demanded in a tone that summed up their brief exchange.

"They won't say."

Hiei stepped past Yusuke and the inspector, pushing away the other two police officers and stood above the unshaken subjects.

"You," he said, keeping his hands to himself, refusing to have to touch the bald man by forcibly making him look up

The moment the man glared up at the fire demon, Kurama felt the slightest disturbance in the atmosphere. Hiei was through within a second's pause and turned on his heels, walking up to them with a scowl in his face that could only bode difficulty as the demon had always lacked patience to deal with convoluted matters.

"They were told to start the fire to draw her back to the city."

Kurama's chest felt heavy.

"And?" Kuwabara said.

"They're after her."

Yusuke blanched. "What of the masterminds?"

"They never met the subjects and only contacted them through the phone."

A moment of silence descended on all of them as the truth of the situation registered. The professor had been the sole target from the beginning and it would only mean they needed answers from her. They were desperate and disorganized enough as it was, or else they wouldn't have been this thorough with the plan of retrieving her.

A beeping sound went off and Yusuke fumbled for his communicator, flipping it to life with the frown never leaving his face.

"Yusuke," said Botan's voice, harried and panting. The four of them crowded around the detective and Kurama's jaw dropped.

"Shuichi—!"

" _Mother?"_

Shiori's brown eyes were wide with shock and fright. Kurama felt his stomach sink farther down the damp pavement.

o-o

What possessed her to succumb to the enemies was beyond her. Chiaki was sure she was put to sleep by the butt of a gun, and her head throbbed like someone had repeatedly stomped on it, topping off the burning pain in her elbow.

The cold, damp floor felt almost comforting to her injured head, but Chiaki was rightfully aware that she was not supposed to be here, at least according to the better part of her sensibility. Yes, she had chosen to save her helpless girlfriends, but she wasn't supposed to be caged up. If anything, she had expected to wake up in an interrogation room, strapped down by leather straps or a straitjacket.

She had trouble opening her eyes to see her surroundings, turning every which way to find out where exactly she was put when she volunteered to be roasted by the maniac behind all this.

Despite her condition, she had expected proper treatment for someone whom these crazies needed, but apparently she was no different from a pig in a pen; this pen was exceptionally cold and barred with thick floor-to-ceiling metal bars with a watchman sitting on a chair in front of the doors, lazily staring at her slumped form on the dirty, rough floor.

Chiaki's head throbbed again as she shifted in her position. She felt like puking from a possible concussion.

 _God, how stupid of me to play heroine again._

But she couldn't leave her friends to roast in her stead.

The floor proved to be quite a surface penetrable by all sorts of sounds, as she heard through the concrete the footsteps that pattered from somewhere and towards her cell. They grew louder as they neared, the mystery persons' shadows growing larger as they most likely passed by the same small, incandescent lamps that framed the watchman's figure, the only light source that made her prison less gloomy.

Chiaki could barely move her head, but from what little she could see of the people the watchman bowed to upon their arrival, her heart painfully wrenched.

"You," she managed to whisper weakly in a croaking voice. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes for a very apparent reason.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. As fuzzy as her head was, this was all too real.

"Yes, us."

o-o

The door slid open with a creak and Kurama stepped inside followed by his friends. The diner was still closed and for a stranger spectating from the inside, it would have looked like something shady was afoot.

His mother sat among the girls in the largest table in the center, her hair windblown and her face streaked with dried tears and dirt. Kurama could hardly lament the fact that the professor had been taken— _willingly gone with the enemies_ , as Botan had assured them—upon the sight of his shaken mother who had to reluctantly experience this ordeal first-hand when he had done everything in his capacity to keep her from ever knowing about him.

Silently his friends left the two of them and went upstairs, and suddenly the diner looked darker and more sinister in light of what had happened over the course of mere hours.

The presence of his mother who didn't take her eyes off him wasn't helping him cope with the situation.

He hadn't expected for this to happen now. That he would have to tell her after all—after twenty-seven years of skirting around the subject when he was confident she knew there was something amiss with regards to him. She should know; she was his mother.

It took a while before Shiori moved, and when she did, she only silently gestured for him to take the seat in front of her. Kurama slowly acquiesced and sat in the proffered chair, keeping his hands planted firmly on the table and refusing to look her way.

Brilliant and calculating he was he'd given thought to how he would explain everything to her when the time came for him to do so. But now he was at a loss. Perhaps it was pride and overflowing confidence that she would _never_ know that brought forth this unsolicited confession. Perhaps he was just was too afraid; thinking about it beforehand meant he believed it, even to an infinitesimal degree. And perhaps somewhere deep down he refused to believe it.

"Shuichi," said Shiori, but this time with a note of uncertainty, like she didn't know whether she should even be addressing him by the name she'd given.

Kurama dared to look her in the eye. He wasn't certain what he expected to see in them—hatred or confusion, perhaps—but now she stared back unseeingly.

"Mother," he said, testing the waters.

"Is that right?" she said, cradling her temple in her hand, looking down into her lap. It was as though she was reciting her thoughts in front of a stranger. "I thought you weren't going to respond."

Something clenched inside Kurama's ribcage.

Shiori's moist lips trembled and she turned to him with a tear-stained face. "Just… who are you?"

To say that he was hurt by such a spiteful, reproving question was understating the effect that this single sentence brought to a part of his soul that he no longer knew existed and felt. The stitch began to overwhelm him, and Kurama, for the three-millennium life of him, couldn't find the right words to say to this woman he had always considered his mother, long after his own had died without ever knowing who she was. Long after he was abandoned in a stream in some forest as a kit, as a child.

Shiori's face stared at him steadily, waiting for an answer. Kurama grappled for the right words that would soften the blow—surely the thought of a confrontation had gone into his brain once or twice in the past, only rammed into the deepest recesses of his mind, unwilling as he was to dig for them even now.

"Answer me, please," she said, grabbing his scarred hand and kissing him on the knuckles. The scars on her arms showed and for a fraction of a second, he felt most connected to her—both of them wounded and bearing reminders of past pains.

This woman had sacrificed so much for him even when she knew something was amiss, something was _wrong_ with the Shuichi that she for nine gruelling months carried in her womb and for years dutifully changed soiled diapers, fed at ungodly hours and rocked to sleep.

Shiori was his mother. It was the truest thing in the world at that moment, as her tears fell on his hand.

Kurama felt so much guilt that his shoulders sagged as he rose to come to her side and cradle her head to his heavy chest.

"Mother, it's me. I'm your son," he whispered to her ear. It was true. He'd never believed in it as he did right now.

If this had happened a decade prior, he probably would have been reluctant to offer her any innocent and honest comfort. The soul of a demon in conflict with that of a human teenager nurtured with love and care from someone he was deceiving rendered him helpless most of the time. Conflicted was undermining the degree of confusion he felt in the past.

But now as he held Shiori in his arms, hushing her in consolation, Kurama felt nothing would keep him from seeing to it that she ceased crying for the twenty-seven years of wasted honesty and sincerity that they could have shared with each other.

"Will you please tell me?" she asked him, her voice weak but audible to his sensitive ears.

Kurama bent down in front of her, clasping her cold hands in his. Her tears still fell freely, making their way to his face that looked up to her own. Soft droplets like the rain that he'd bathed in after his abandonment, bewildered and broken. The rain had become too hard for his small, fragile form that he sought the shelter of a tree—but Shiori's tears were never deliberately painful even as they fell on his weakened form, bagged down with guilt. Shiori had always been his shelter from all of life's bitter pains.

"You're not going to like all of it, mother," he said truthfully.

Shiori's lips quivered to a small smile and she held his face in her hand. "You've always been able to make me understand."

Kurama rested his cheek on her palm. He felt the burden lighten—even by a feather.

"Where do you want to start?"

"The beginning."

o-o

"You!" she said in a harsh whisper, trying to get up from her position on the floor with her good arm. She wobbled to her knees and managed to push herself to stand on her feet.

Ishihara and Ozu were beyond the bars, but she could see how different they looked from the seniors she believed she had worked with. Their wizened, kind miens were nowhere in sight, instead there were smirking, over-confident masks that a part of her wished to melt away with the intensity of her glower.

"Quit repeating yourself, Aoshi," said Ozu in his gruff voice. It was the same voice that had often argued with Yamamoto from two years ago, now only heard after he'd been so _conveniently_ on sick leave for three months.

"I'm sure you're having a hard time to process everything, but we're here to make you understand, Chiaki," said Ishihara calmly, betraying the smug look on his face.

 _These men are crazy, these men are crazy._

"You don't have to tell me to make me understand," she said, stepping closer to the metal bars. "I already know what you're up to and I'm not going to help you."

Ozu laughed, Ishihara breathed.

"That's a shame, Aoshi. You know we could kill you."

 _Kill_.

They were bluffing.

 _Kill._

Fear didn't grip her; a different feeling was set afire in her chest, all-consuming and overwhelming. Realization hit her like a scythe—realization that they were _murderers_ —and her unsteady feet brought her running towards the bars, trying to grab whatever she could of the two of them.

"You killed Isamu!" she screamed, stretching out her good hand for their sleeves.

But they were too far from her reach—too far to wound with her claws, too far to wrench and hit against the bars until they bled the same crimson blood that oozed out of Isamu's body as he lay at her doorstep.

Everything she saw was bright red, and not even the twinge from her broken elbow brought her back to the reality of the situation—that she was prisoner and they were her captors.

Frustrated, she thrashed at the metal bars with her foot, shaking the bars with her hands as she screamed bloody murder at the three of the spectating faggots with blackened hearts and souls.

 _If only she could grab anything of them!_

…What would she do?

Tears ran down her face as her chest became heavier and heavier, her breathing shallow. The sound of her voice echoed through the cold cell, and she gave in to her weakness, falling to the floor as she dissolved to nothing like the woman she'd tried to be.

"We shall come back for you, Chiaki. You have till night time to think this through. We're desperate enough as it is."

Chiaki wasn't even sure if she'd heard them right. It was a huge farce if it were true.

o-o

"Why didn't you leave after all this time?" Shiori asked with a steady voice after a loaded silence that was as long as a lifetime.

"There was no reason to do so," he said honestly. "And still there isn't."

"What do you mean?"

"You still need me, or so I tell myself, mother." Kurama looked down on his knees. "Probably it's more accurate to say that you haven't made me feel unwanted."

Shiori's soft gasp was drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart. Her hands gripped his face. She was smiling at him, her eyes still glazed by tears that threatened to fall.

"But I need you, son. I need my Shuichi—or Kurama, if it helps you feel better. I need _you_. I'm your mother and I would _never_ make you feel unwanted, remember that," she said. She shook her head. "How could I? You sacrificed yourself for my life and have stayed even when you had the capacity to leave. What did I do to deserve you?"

 _No, mother. What have I done to deserve you?_

The posteriors of Kurama's eyes stung. He was never one to cry but he allowed himself to take comfort in her words even if only for now. Had it not been because of his confessing his history to her, these words would have not touched him this way.

Shiori's display of unwavering trust in him was overwhelming. It made his heart flutter in his chest and his lacrimal glands shed liquid that he had been desensitized to.

His mother wiped away the pair of droplets from his eyes and pulled his head to rest on her chest, to hear the heartbeat his own had shared before he was born to this world. The same heartbeat that was still in pace with his, reminding him of who he really was—Shiori's son.

How beautifully synchronized they were—a mother and son's beating hearts. For the first time, Kurama felt completely, wholly, a child.

"I love you, dear," said Shiori.

Kurama didn't have to say it back. He only allowed himself a smile.

This level of display of affection would have to wait. Even the manliest of the lot would be embarrassed to admit to such. He was no different.

o-o

Chiaki found herself in the far corner of her cell, contemplating her imminent death. What they wanted from her was not one she could give, and without any use of her, she would be disposed of just as everyone else they thought worthless.

She had known this for so long—that she had plunged to her death when she went through with her gut feeling and sought for help.

But it didn't deter her from resenting the fact that she would be offed just because she couldn't provide anything else but the obvious truth that any scientist would have known since the beginning: it was impossible to nurture a clone as powerful as the Reikai Tantei in so short a time, supernaturally or not.

She was beating herself because of it—they had so obviously been failing and now she put herself in a deeper shithole by playing heroine only to become a damsel in distress.

She was so screwed.

Unless…

Yamamoto had said this crazy had been going on for quite a time. That or he would have been able to worm his way back to sanity and still be shouting at her for being an incompetent pupil even though he didn't mean it. His letter screamed it was too late to go back.

Perhaps they'd only been biding their time to orchestrate the final attack? Perhaps they'd long been successful and only encountered a slight glitch that they thought she knew of as she was Yamamoto's most trusted student?

But she didn't know _anything_!

Chiaki tried to gather the loose fibers of herself, trying to clear her thoughts. She was not going to die today, she told herself.

Ishihara and Ozu's names didn't appear in the records—their names had most likely been in the pages that Isamu had taken. The rest of the lunatics were in this same place, perhaps only meters below or above this cell. That much she could say with confidence—why make it harder for them to keep an eye on her?

Whatever happened between the first and third attacks was crucial information. It wasn't, of course, just the second attack. But what was it?

What was it that was so important that Isamu died for it?

"You're awake," said Ishihara's voice.

Chiaki looked up from her musing and glared at his and Ozu's forms. "What do you want from me?"

Ozu tossed a brown envelope into the cell. It landed on the rough, concrete floor with a feather-like scratch, a foot away from her. "Open and read it."

They were not going to kill her just yet. The idea haunted her.

She took the envelope using her foot and dragged it toward her with little difficulty. It was as big as a legal size paper, and she opened the flap cautiously, letting the contents tumble out and onto the floor.

Four leaves of paper torn on one side—her heart skipped a beat—fluttered out. It took all her resolve to not look surprised at the sight of the evidence Isamu had withheld from her. Her fingers grazed the papers, trying to affect confusion as she scanned through their contents in the dim lighting of the cell.

Several names she found recognizable—each one sending a chill down her spine. Sure enough, Ishihara and Ozu's names were on the list. None of at least the fifty of them, as she realized, had been crossed off. None of them had dared to betray—or if they did, they had probably gone to hiding without ever being filed a missing case report that not even the human police would know.

Chiaki was beginning to think Isamu wasn't in on the secret that much if he never had the chance to list the names of possible demons involved in this case. Because how else would they be able to retrieve that much information on youkai biology if not first-hand? How else would they have operated in the Makai?

She perused the last two papers. Just as she and the others had presumed, they contained the entries missing from Isamu's records.

Chiaki slowly took in the words until she arrived at the pertinent date: June 19th.

 _Professor Yamamoto and I met. He brought with him a parcel and a letter giving me his final instructions. He said to only read and do as instructed on the day of the next attack._

Chiaki's heart clenched. Everything finally fell into place.

Yamamoto had asked Isamu to bring the book to her and make it look like a big secret crucial to the operation. Once the "secret" was heard of and her involvement realized, they would force her to reveal herself hence the attack at their secret laboratory. They would think she held the answer to the cause of their failures and hold her captive.

 _And when she revealed the truth behind all of it—_

"I have a question for the two of you," she finally said, looking up at the two men who once again added another tally to her traitors list.

Ishihara merely nodded his head.

"Why are you doing all this?"

"Because humans and demons need to coexist," said Ozu without delay.

Chiaki's lips were drawn to a smirk. "Which is why you're creating clones of the most trusted men who serve under the Reikai. Why?" she said, feigning innocence. "Oh, I know. To shatter the peace and start a war against the all-knowing Reikai."

"You have no idea why that in itself is the most noble of scientific ventures," said Ishihara.

"Humor me, then, Professor?" Chiaki said, not dropping her detached attitude.

This was insanity at its finest, _really._

Ishihara sat himself on the bench next to the watchman. "The Reikai has become too much of an authority to us humans and demons. They took down the Keikai barrier and let the demons and humans mingle but are we aware of their presence? No. Are we allowed to do whatever we wish to do with the friends we've made from the Makai? No. Why? Because some moron said to treat the human world with respect, treat the demon world with respect. Ridiculous.

"Science is yet to advance and the help of the demons and these hybrids could present novel breakthroughs, Chiaki! But we have to start somewhere, we have to protect ourselves, we have to let the Reikai know that we exist, that there are those among us who wish to better the three worlds!"

"By killing other people?"

"By making sacrifices! We had to recruit more to our side, we need manpower."

"And you thought you'll achieve that by force?"

"We had no choice."

Chiaki scoffed. "You were growing desperate because little by little, your colleagues are turning their backs on you. Yamamoto must have turned away even before the first attack if you revealed yourself carelessly—"

"What do you know, Aoshi?" said Ozu, impatient. A vein popped in his temple.

"Someone told me a while ago that nobody has ever succeeded in trying to shake the balance of the three worlds," she said in a lazy drawl.

The last line of Isamu's June 19th entry entered her mind again: _He asked me if I still remember his little lecture on Dolly the Sheep. Without letting me answer, he went away._

She remembered the lecture well. "And someone else told me this: 'Dolly the Sheep short of telomeres dies drably due to stupid scientists'," she said.

Thin, stringy stems and broad, flattened leaves began to glow in pale yellow from her corner, enveloping the whole cell as the two male scientists and their servant stared agape.

"The trigger…" Ozu said in a whisper before he glared down at Chiaki.

She didn't know what precisely was happening and why Kurama's plant was aglow with his energy.

But she knew a few things: when Kurama had installed them in the IMCB, he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary while they were on infiltration and Ozu just said Dolly the Sheep was the trigger. To deactivate the force blocking Kurama's plants from sensing the paranormal, perhaps?

The brilliance of Yamamoto sparked hope in her heart. He had known all along.

She would get out of this alive.

o-o

A surge of energy ran up and down Kurama's spine and he pulled away from his mother. He stared at his hands as he felt the tingle that was reminiscent of blood flow after release from impediment.

 _His plants._

"Excuse me, mother."

Taking a seed in his hair, he tossed it to the soil of the potted bonsai on the counter, spiking it with energy to let the Eyevine grow and take root, its stems meandering to take anchorage on the countertop. As soon as the first leaf arose, he took it and toggled for the most recent recording.

The live feed flashed before his eyes—recordings of the same, familiar hallways he'd kept an eye on for the duration of their infiltration. He continued to switch cameras as his friends came thundering downstairs, probably catching the rise in his ki.

"What's happening?" asked Yusuke, coming up behind Kurama.

"The Eyevines at the IMCB," he said, not taking away his gaze from the monitor leaf. "They've been reactivated by youki."

"How—?"

Kurama's fingers froze as soon as the view of Aoshi Chiaki's face hit the monitor. Behind him, his friends gasped as his heart flew out of his chest. She looked so pale but the smirk on her face alighted a new form of hope in Kurama's heart.

She was safe.

He switched cameras and realized she was in a cell, and beyond the bars were three people, two of whom he didn't recognize—but the third presence he would not forget. The kind-looking Chairman Ishihara sent a chill down his spine as he banged at the bars with a ferocity only becoming of a mad man. The sound didn't penetrate through the feed, but he knew by the slight drop in Aoshi's smug exterior that it was strong enough to break the walls.

The gears in Kurama's head started working. Something had deactivated whatever it was that kept his Eyevines from sensing any of the youki in this part of the research facility. And whatever it was, Aoshi must have broken it.

He whirled around to face Botan. "Prepare the portal. Whatever it was that had blocked us from detecting the youki at the IMCB has been taken down. How, I don't know, but we must move. Professor Aoshi will receive Ishihara's wrath if we don't."

"I'll contact Koenma and Enki," said Yusuke, whipping out his compact communicator. Kurama nodded.

Each of them immediately took a function, and Kurama was left to navigate through the secret laboratories that had resided at the basement of the IMCB. How he could have missed this was no longer beyond comprehension now that it was clear as day that they didn't stand a chance with the enemies knowing of their probable involvement in the case and how to evade their strategies completely.

A few more minutes of navigating through the hallways and rooms—Kurama found himself flinching inwardly at the sight of the same gigantic tubes back at the facilities in the Makai—and he arrived at one that almost made him drop the leaf.

In four, fluorescent tubes and immersed in glowing green liquid were the four of them—he, Yusuke, Kuwabara and Hiei.

Aoshi had been right.

"Portal's here!" said Botan.

The four of them were set to motion to say hurried goodbyes to their friends, and Kurama withdrew his energy from the Eyevine. Shiori got hold of his sleeve before he could go to her and she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"Will you be all right, my son?"

He held her face in his hand. "Yes, I promise."

Shiori didn't let go just yet. "And the brave young lady who saved us?"

"We'll bring her back."

His mother almost but not quite turned away. "Who is she to you?"

Her words from almost three months back rang in his head. She never missed a thing. "She makes me happy."

Shiori's lips curled to a smile. "Be careful."

For the first time in many years, Kurama felt he understood what it meant to go while looking forward to coming back to a home.

But not before he saved the professor, even when reluctant as a distressed damsel she was.

o-o

"What did _you_ do?" shouted Ishihara, kicking at the metal bars.

Chiaki tried to push back the fear that dropped to her at that instant. Years under his pretend considerate tutelage had sheltered her from his wrath but now that the mask had fallen and he revealed himself at last, Chiaki found herself afraid of what he was capable of doing.

Ozu who was throwing a tantrum by stomping his feet and going around in circles that didn't help matters. "It's Yamamoto's ghost!" he was saying over and over again.

The guard shivered and visibly shrank to a dark corner.

Ishihara's hands landed on both Ozu's and the unnamed guard's heads. "Get hold of yourselves! There's no ghost. He built this facility and apparently his pupil knows about it!"

He spun to turn to Chiaki with his blazing eyes and lifted a finger to point at her. Chiaki tried to look unfazed. "You're going to tell us everything you know, do you understand?"

 _Shame, that is._ She didn't know anything else. At least _consciously_.

The guard moved from his petrified pose and unlocked the door upon Ishihara's instructions. He ran towards Chiaki and wrenched her by her injured elbow—eliciting a small undignified squawk of pain to come from her throat—forcing her to her feet. Black spots danced in her vision as the guard pressed harder on the tender spot as he dragged her out the cell.

As they passed by Ishihara and Ozu who were both speaking to a walkie-talkie, her pain-dimmed brain managed to catch only patches of speech…

"—to secure the clones—"

"—the last of the hybrids—"

…before the guard pushed her to turn the dingy corner that led to a flight of stairs. The two of them reached the tiled landing, and she was shoved to another hallway that was too bright for her coming from the dark cells below.

Clones. Hybrids. Yamamoto built the facility and left. But he knew how to bypass the security. Apparently, Ishihara and Ozu had been stupid enough not to lick his shoes to be in the know of the secret.

Yamamoto had been the grand architect of this whole situation, it seemed. And he was the reason Chiaki was _this_ close to dying.

(Yamamoto had most probably approved adding the lockups below. He had a sadistic streak, after all.)

The thought brought tears to her eyes more effectively than the bitch of a guard who kept pressing down on her broken elbow. After all that she'd gone through, she was afraid to die.

It was not the matter of dying itself. It was dying without having done something remotely worthwhile in her life. Like discovering the cure for cancer or developing pest-resistant rice.

Or perhaps telling Kurama that she had always liked the way he dressed and carried himself.

Chiaki sniffed as the guard pushed her into a monitor room whose presence didn't even surprise her anymore. It was like they did in the movies only that it smelled like there had an old man's feet in here. The computers had been shut down so that only the fluorescent lamps overhead illuminated the small space. She was made to sit on a swivel chair, and the guard stood at the door, his chin with his unkempt stubble set and his beady eyes looking past her who nursed her blasted elbow.

She was going to die and she had never bested her father in being the better person. She was going to die without ever telling Kuwabara that Yukina actually liked him but was still set on getting Hiei to confess to her that she was his brother (it seemed Yukina wanted to be traditional and have Kuwabara ask her only living relative for her hand in marriage). She was going to die without ever telling Kurama that she actually liked him, in a very twisted manner that made her miss him now that she was sitting alone with a stranger in silence.

The silence in the room was almost effective to clear her thoughts, inviting even, but not like the silence she had enjoyed with the cunning fox. His advances had been a surprise, but now that she was facing her imminent death she found herself admitting that his affections had always been welcome, if not wanted or needed.

That she might actually take a chance on the two of them even if there had been an Isamu in the first place. All because he'd never done anything to betray her.

 _She trusted the fox._

In the silence of the monitor room, she had a moment of complete honesty with herself. She realized humans were indeed not infallible and that there would always be evil in all forms—obsession, addiction, or compulsion. It had taken her a while to come to terms with it, to fully grasp the concept of how hopeless humans could be but now she understood.

Understood that in the face of evil there was good, that in the face of despair there was hope. Perhaps it would take so much energy to make the world a better place—an endeavor that would break her again and again—but she could always try.

Yamamoto had done the grave mistake of giving in to the temptation of being the greatest, of being recognized for his knowledge and skill, of being the first to discover and develop this and that. It had always been a problem in the scientific world—downplayed but nevertheless a competition that was afoot. But to what end? Again, nothing. Nothing but to feed a scientist's already dissatisfied ego.

It seemed Isamu, Ishihara and Ozu had fallen just as well.

Dealing with the science humans had established since the ancient Chinese and Greeks questioned the world was complicated enough. So why make it more so and become obsessed with things that were worse to be tampered with?

Wasn't science supposed to make things simpler for the average man? Wasn't it supposed to make everyone understand the world?

It had been drastic enough to tinker with nukes and biological weaponry. Humans had suffered enough from these little idiots' constant hunger for patents and Nobel prizes. The scientific community had been in a jackshit since time immemorial and yet they had never learned.

Guess there was no exemption when it came to greed.

Granted, their reasons had been slightly noble—too ambitious, but noble—while grandiose the execution that they required. Debates regarding the cons and pros of some scientific ventures were quite touchy and it didn't help that some people were way over their heads to think this through and be less stupid.

Remind her again why she hated egoists and idealists.

She swore to whoever was listening that she would do something about this _if_ she ever survived.

Chiaki's form slid lower into the swivel chair, tears brimming her already heavy eyes. God, she was such a baby.

She would have already cursed the silence that prevented her from crying aloud to vent out her frustrations if not for the hullabaloo that later ensued past the metal door. To say that she was taken aback by the sudden eruption of screaming and thundering footsteps was understating how she almost fell off the chair as the door was blasted off its hinges, effectively squishing the guard underneath as Kuwabara's humongous form stepped on the metal junk, holding up the familiar orange lightning-like sword she'd seen once or twice.

Chiaki met the psychic's dark eyes and she bolted into his arms—relief washing over her. The tears came as soon as she felt this tall man's torso, happy that finally someone had come to rescue her.

As reluctant as she was to rely on someone else—much less on a man—to save her ass, she welcomed this much needed help.

"Professor!" he said, patting her on the shoulder. "It's good to see you. Are you okay?"

She pulled away from him. "Broken elbow. Otherwise, I'm whole."

Kuwabara smiled but it readily disappeared. "We have to get you out of here."

"The others?"

"We split up. It's dumb luck I sensed your presence here."

Chiaki was sure it wasn't merely "dumb luck" but she left it at that. She could use some humble sentiment in the midst of raging male pride and bravado.

Now that she'd been rescued, she couldn't afford to become merely a burden for the psychic to lug around. Chiaki stepped off the fallen metal door after she wiped her tears away and turned to Kuwabara.

"Do you mind lifting this away? I need to get something from the man underneath."

After a moment of hesitation during which Kuwabara checked for a clear coast, he hopped off and hoisted the door with little effort, setting it aside with a loud clang. Chiaki bent down to feel for the man's effects.

When her fingers finally grazed the gun and the magazines, she stood up and cocked the firearm.

"You won't need that," Kuwabara said, staring at her in incredulity.

"Believe me, I will."

Kuwabara didn't have a chance to react as a sphere of white-hot light glowed from somewhere and hit the wall outside, a mere two feet from the two of them. They both got down on the floor, her face almost kissing the man's stomach, as a shower of metal turned to dust gushed out from the zone of impact.

The ginger jumped to his feet as soon as he heard the guttural roar of the humanoid, galloping to the six-footer and slashing it with his orange sword. He stepped over the fallen body and beckoned for Chiaki to follow.

Chiaki pushed herself off the floor and ran after Kuwabara who charged to the end of the hallway. The two of them burst out to a hall, momentarily blinded by the bright light that spilled from above. A mass of rubble sat at the center and looking up, Chiaki realized the entire ceiling had collapsed on itself.

After surveying the coast for a moment, Kuwabara grabbed her by the shoulder and the two of them took off running towards another bright hallway.

Several footsteps were heard charging from the front, and Chiaki yelled for Kuwabara to drop down as the shadows grew bigger and nearer. Aiming at the men's arms, she pulled the trigger once, twice, before shooting the two guards in their ankles.

The two tumbled down and hit their heads on the walls, effectively putting them to sleep. Chiaki released a breath.

"You weren't kidding," said Kuwabara as they stepped up to the men.

"No," said Chiaki, taking the fallen guns and tucking one in each of her back pocket. "There are humans around here and I'm sure none of them would take a slash of your sword and survive."

"How did you know how to handle that?"

"Long story," she said dismissively. "Where to?"

Kuwabara seemed to have snapped from his momentary awe. "Two floors up," he said, indicating the flight of stairs.

The two of them started running again, Kuwabara bringing up the rear this time, keeping her close.

Chiaki could hardly feel her lungs, only focused on getting to where the others were.

She hoped Kurama was well.

o-o

His back collided with Hiei and Yusuke's, the three of them caught in the middle as more of the hanyou flocked to the center of the hall. The rest of the back-up troops had already dispersed to catch anyone who dared escape and now they were left to deal with the sick-inducing job as usual.

The three of them jumped in the air and attacked. Kurama raised his arms and beat his Rose Whip to slay six of the creatures in one stroke and another half-dozen as he changed the course of the thorny weapon.

The hanyou fell down before the others could counterattack. Multiple balls of youki and reiki made their way to him and Kurama dodged. They were still too slow for their team.

Kurama broke his fall and rolled on the floor, flicking his wrist to direct his whip against the humanoids' thighs. The floor shook as the lot of them fell down from his offense, and soon enough he was covered with blood and bits of flesh.

Hiei and Yusuke continued their slaughter. Yusuke's Rei Gun had punctured holes in the walls while Hiei's fallen victims had caused the collapse of one side of the room. If this went on, he was sure the three of them would make the floor cave in.

But the beasts stopped coming and suddenly he found himself panting, the hand that held his whip resting on his side. The room was silent without ballistic beasts coming at them from all directions.

Yusuke turned to the two of them, wiping blood from his nose. "Let's find the rest."

"There's no need for that."

Hiei jerked his head to the direction of the stairwell and Kurama heard it—a pair of rapid footsteps. Amidst the rusty stench of blood was the familiar lily-of-the-valley shampoo.

In no time, Aoshi Chiaki's head bobbed up to view, closely followed by Kuwabara's. She stopped as she hit the landing, her right hand holding a gun—much to his surprise—, her face torn between mortification and relief.

Their eyes met and relief won her over, her features lighting up like a beacon in the center of a bloody battlefield. Like a ray of hope.

She smiled at him and he smiled back, letting his heart sit in the middle for everyone to see. He was beyond happy to see her well, and even for a minute in this dangerous place he allowed himself some vulnerability to feel the fire that had consumed his being for some time now.

"We pulled the zwischenzug on them," she said quietly but loud enough for all of them to hear, for his friends to puzzle about once more.

Kurama understood and he found his lips parting more so. Competitiveness was never _not_ part of her. "We did."

The subdued celebration was only shattered by a loud, thundering quake somewhere above his head.

Kurama didn't have to hear it twice—he vaulted the three feet from her and grabbed the professor by the waist, pulling the two of them to safety as the ceiling above them caved in with a shower of debris. With the impact of the large portion of the ceiling, the floor broke up and collapsed as well, taking with it the bodies of the dead half-demons. Still in the air in that split-second unfolding of events, her head pressed to his chest, he quickly flicked his wrist, letting the whip wrap around a metal beam that miraculously had stayed intact.

Aoshi clung to him desperately as they dangled from the middle of the crater where the floor had been, arms wrapped around him, her rapid heartbeat in synchrony with the frantic drumming of his.

He turned to look for his friends. They were all clutching onto some handhold or foothold, alive and well.

Momentarily dazzled by the collapse of floors, soon he realized that they were not alone—this he deduced from the twin grunting from Kuwabara and Yusuke that echoed through the air that very second.

He had barely reacted when he heard the crack of his whip and felt gravity taking over. Kurama forced himself to look up as he singlehandedly threw a seed onto the rubble in the dark floor below.

He heard his whip crack—no mistake about that; the whip that had severed his own was an exact copy of his, held by his reflection.

No, by his _clone_.

He and Aoshi landed on the brown mushroom head that had sprouted on top of the rubble just as the clone jumped from above them, standing several feet away. He heard the rest of his companions' expressions of befuddlement as they were forced to come together as their clones circled their small group.

Kurama's left arm snaked around the professor and he pushed her to his back, keeping her from harm. His three friends crowded around her as they came face to face with the duplicates that they had expected to see.

The similarity was almost awe-inspiring except for the fact that something felt off about his clone now that he stared him in the eye.

Aoshi's shaking hand grasped his elbow.

"They're not complete."

As though it was the single truth that they needed to hear, the four of them jumped from the mushroom head after securing her with the herbaceous stem of one of his protective plants, encapsulating the injured professor in a cage despite her indignant protesting.

They had already discussed their plan of attack as they had anticipated this to happen, but Kurama still shook as he ran in front of Kuwabara's clone. He was certain defeating their clones would be suicidal even if they were in fact incomplete, hence the strategy that he'd proposed and to which everyone else agreed.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kurama flicked his wrist to direct it against the clone who dodged it but not as swiftly as the real Kuwabara would have done. This proved to be a surprise but at the same time eased the burden of battling with the mirror image of his friend, as Kuwabara himself, despite being stronger, was less agile than Kurama.

His lips drew to a smirk as he leapt out of harm's way and the duplicate glowing sword sliced through the huge chunk of concrete that Kurama had been standing on. Before his feet could touch the ground, he lashed his whip though the air and aimed for the faux-Kuwabara's arm.

This time the whip was successful and it rammed through the clone's bones, cutting the limb off with a gush of crimson blood.

The guttural roar from the clone nevertheless made his hair stand on end. From his right the real Kuwabara yelped after witnessing the gory fate of his clone before he vaulted the metal bar sticking out from a piece of rubble to evade the incoming katana from faux-Hiei.

Without further ado, Kurama tossed a seed to the faux-Kuwabara's feet and with a mere mental command, it bloomed to a pitcher plant. Its tendrils crawled and grasped the clone's feet before tossing the wriggling body into its mouth. Kurama turned away as the clone's screaming was drowned out as it died.

Kurama turned to help Kuwabara with Hiei's clone but he froze in his tracks as Aoshi's ringing voice echoed through the bedlam:

"Kurama, down!"

Cold, singing pain on his left shoulder followed a gunshot. Even with the shock that came with the blow, he was able to dodge the next bullet that was directed towards his way.

He had barely looked up to see who had fired at him when another gunshot—this time mere feet from him—pierced through his confusion. A body was suddenly falling from the non-existent ceiling and another was running his way.

The lily-of-the-valley shampoo wafted through his nostrils as Aoshi's form shielded his view of the perpetrator. Kurama looked behind him—the cage had apparently fallen down from his being distracted by the injury.

"Professor—"

"I know what I'm doing," she said, turning her head slightly to tell him she was listening. "And I didn't kill him."

It was when Kurama saw for himself the way she held the gun in front of her, as though she had long known how to fire such a weapon. Two more guns were secured in her back pockets, he dimly noted.

"You're not going to die, are you?" she asked, not taking her eyes away from the ceiling as she backed him to a hollow between two masses of debris.

"No."

"Good," she said.

"And by that I also meant that you don't have to protect me."

"That I'm the one in need of protecting, is that it?" she said, harrumphing. She dropped the gun she held and kicked it away into the wilderness of the rubble and exchanged it for one of the reserves.

Cocking the gun, she aimed at something above them. Kurama squinted his eyes to see the figure looming over the crater, his own gun aimed.

Aoshi fired, and the figure relinquished his hold on his arm and, in shock, fell into the hole and onto the pile of rubble.

A silence between him and Aoshi followed the impact, and the professor turned her head to look him squarely on the face.

"Bit of a surprise, I know," she said. "But I can handle myself. At least against the human morons."

Kurama remained silent.

"And I'm not killing anyone."

This made Kurama smile. He knew she would never soil her hands. But he wasn't about to accept her conditions. He instead dropped another seed at her feet before leaping out of the hollow, letting it grow into another contraption.

"You're a cheat!" she yelled in protest as he smiled at her before running to his teammates. "Come back, you cheating fox!"

But he turned deaf to her shouts that in turn dissipated as she kept her presumed role, shooting the people that dared to attack from behind.

Kuwabara was in a pickle as the faux-Hiei lobbed out his katana. Kurama flicked his wrist, ignoring the pain on his left shoulder, maneuvering his whip to cut across the clone's feet as it was distracted by Kuwabara's whimpers.

The thorny rope caught the clone's ankle and Kurama heaved the combined weight of the whip and the clone as he yelled for Kuwabara to deliver the final blow.

In synchrony, a shower of blood and three sets of screams of agony preceded the silence of their victory.

Kurama turned to his teammates and to the professor still caged up but bloody as well. After a moment's pause, they all sighed in relief, Yusuke and Kuwabara nervously laughing at such a humorless situation.

Ten minutes later, the five of them had somehow made it to a passage completely deserted except for two figures that were too familiar for him to forget.

As soon as their party came to a halt, the professor bolted down the hallway, running like she didn't see anything but red.

Everything happened so fast that he didn't realize she was armed and could well be motivated to kill in retaliation as she raised her gunned hand in front of her. The two figures stumbled backwards as they tried to back away from the furious woman, falling on their behinds in fright.

Aiming at Ishihara's face, Aoshi loomed over the two of her seniors.

"You killed Isamu or you didn't," she said, gritting her teeth. "Which is it?"

"Chiaki—"

"YOU KILLED HIM OR YOU DID NOT! WHICH IS IT?" she was screaming, stomping her foot. The gun shook as she jabbed at Ishihara's forehead.

Kurama stepped closer, afraid she would indeed murder somebody, afraid that she was capable of doing something so evil after all.

The old man shivered, and if it were possible, fell deeper against the cold, tiled floor.

"ANSWER ME!"

"I didn't, Chiaki," said the scientist, shaking his head. "He didn't die by my hand."

Another jab at the man's forehead. "But you ordered him killed."

Ishihara looked away.

A silence descended upon all of them only punctured by Aoshi's ragged breathing.

Kurama caught Hiei's eyes, nodding in warning. But Aoshi never pulled the trigger. She hurled the gun with so much force against the wall so that it clanged and bounced a few times before coming to rest a few steps away from Kurama's feet.

Relief instantly flooded inside of him. How could he have doubted her sensibility?

Aoshi was incapable of murder. But she didn't hesitate to slap Ishihara square on the face. Ozu didn't even bother to dodge her open palm, letting it land on his cheek, the sound echoing through the narrow passage.

"You won't have to die today. At least mull over your mistakes, stupid stuck-ups."

Kurama breathed deeply. He was, for the first time in a long while, truly glad.

* * *

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter. And the longest one at that.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added this story to their lists. As early as now, I'm thanking you all for sticking to this story. It's been a long journey. We'll see the end of it soon.

See you in the final chapter. :)


	20. Final - Endgame

Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.

* * *

 **Zwischenzug**

by four-eyed 0-0

Final

" _When you protect yourself from pain, be sure you do not protect yourself from love."_

— Alan Cohen

o-o

 _Endgame_

"Oh, leave her alone, Professor!"

Kurama looked up from the pocket-size novel he was reading under the gray afternoon sky as Atsumi Nao's voice registered, followed by that of the tall man named Sugihara. His arm was currently set upon the shoulders of an incensed Aoshi Chiaki.

She had cut her hair pixie-short, he noticed.

"I still don't get it," said the bald man walking with the three friends some yards away from the row of benches across the IMCB where Kurama sat, waiting. "He comes to fetch you and have coffee with you every single afternoon and you always insist that he's _not_ your boyfriend."

Sugihara had always said that. Kurama couldn't fault him. (He had always heard them even from this distance.)

Aoshi slipped away from his arm and glared at the man, moving to walk beside Atsumi. "I don't see why you must be bothered, sir."

"It bothers me, Chiaki, because you never give me a chance." Sugihara gestured at himself with both hands. "Here is a man boldly asking you out at every opportunity and you choose to go with a man who can't even come up to you and say, 'Hey, Chiaki, I like you. Why don't we go out tonight at some fancy restaurant instead of some shabby café?'"

Numata Erika, Aoshi's other friend, only laughed at Sugihara. "Chiaki is the M type, Professor. She likes to wallow in the agony of waiting for a man too afraid to commit."

"Erika!" said Aoshi, scandalized. She sharply turned to the sole man in their midst. "Professor, why can't you understand that we're completely platonic friends who go out every day to share stories over coffee and bagel?"

Sugihara, Atsumi, and Numata rolled their eyes in perfect synchrony.

Numata caught him watching their exchange. He smiled at her and managed a small nod.

Even when she dropped her voice as she poked Aoshi at the ribs, he read her lips: "Your beautiful beau's here, Chiaki."

Aoshi playfully smacked her friend on the arm before she turned her head to where he was. The professor smiled before whirling a last time to her friends and waving goodbye.

Kurama stood from the bench and slipped the book into his coat's pocket, meeting Aoshi as she jogged towards him, sparing a glance towards the three people she abandoned. Sugihara's face had considerably darkened.

A cloud of breath rose from Aoshi's mouth as she slightly panted. She pulled the scarf farther up her neck as a teeth-shattering January breeze blew past them.

"Sorry I got out late. How long have you been waiting?" she asked, her cheeks red from the cold.

Kurama shook his head. "It's all right, Professor. I arrived only minutes ago. How are you today?"

The two of them started walking to the gate, side by side, but not touching. "A junior managed to contaminate a whole drawer of fungi culture. Yelled at him for a good ten minutes."

Absently, she touched her short, dark hair.

"Too bad you didn't have the chance to pull at your hair while you were at it," said Kurama as they turned left, passing the gate. He moved to walk closer to the traffic as they trudged up the sidewalk.

Snow was not to fall anytime soon, but the breeze blew against them once more and Aoshi hugged tighter to her figure her leather coat. In the many months he spent getting to know her more, he realized that she was incredibly sensitive to the cold. She suffered from the seasonal flu three weeks ago and he and the others played nurse; it had been Botan's idea, including the rather compromising episode of spending more time than necessary in the professor's bedroom while she was fast asleep.

Aoshi had thought she was going to die of bronchitis or lung cancer; she had since dropped smoking, but Kurama wasn't confident she wouldn't relapse when the cold season came to a pass. He was grateful for the change, nonetheless, and had every intention of keeping her from going back to her old ways even if she tortured him for it.

She grit her teeth at the cold before smirking at him with difficulty. "Don't you like it?"

Even now, whenever she asked him of his opinion regarding the smallest of things that she did that could potentially alter her appeal to him, Kurama found himself gulping.

"It isn't repulsive," he said, managing a smirk of his own. In fact, it suited her. The side fringe helped accentuating her dark eyes and cheekbones.

Aoshi rolled her eyes. "It's called the moving-on pixie."

Kurama tilted his head in inquiry.

She turned away. "I realized I've already moved on from Isamu."

The proclamation tugged at his heart. It was a confession more than anything else, the one that he'd been waiting for, he realized.

Aoshi grinned toothily at him. "And it's also the warding-off pixie. For all the men trying to snag me."

The two of them stared at each other for a second before dropping their eyes on the pavement. Her statement was loaded and both of them _knew._

Another cold breeze blew past them and he felt the professor inch closer to him, but not quite.

When did he start noticing the distance between the two of them?

She blew at her hands. "Blasted, I forgot my gloves," she murmured after a while.

To Kurama it sounded like an invitation. And he wanted to hold her hand. And rub his thumb at her knuckles, share his bodily warmth.

His hand surreptitiously slipped out of his coat pocket. He could already feel his arm reaching out, closer to her long-fingered right hand—

"Dammit, I'm running. My coffee's waiting," she said, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder. "Let's go, fox boy!"

Without waiting for his response, she bolted up the last block towards the café, bypassing the other pedestrians.

Kurama slipped his left hand back into his pocket and ran after her. _Not today._

o-o

"I'll see you, Professor."

Chiaki managed a painful smile. "Yeah, see you."

The two of them hovered by the gate and she shifted her weight on the balls of her feet. He looked away for a moment and Chiaki chanted a prayer inside her head before he raised his hand to pat her on the arm. And then, like every single time they parted ways, he turned on his heels and started his calm, confident stride away from her and her gate.

She stayed watching him walk until he turned the corner, willing him to look back at her. But he never did, and he only disappeared like every other time.

The small flame of hope in her chest was doused in ice-cold water, more freezing than the crisp winter air that condensed the heavy sigh she let escape from her lips. Shoulders low, back hunched, she slipped past the metal gate and started for the apartment complex.

He didn't ask her out. Again.

Chiaki could almost see her reflection rolling her eyes at herself. Why would he ask her out? All those times he'd flirted with her ages ago were only for his amusement. These oft-repeated coffee-dates— _no_ , coffee-hangouts—for six shitty months should have made it clear that they were only friends.

At least for now.

 _Ugh, Chaki. He's never going to ask you out. Why would he want to ask you out? You're just a human he's going to outlive. Why would he waste a minute of his millennia-long life with someone who's going to get wrinkly and old while he stayed perpetually young? Don't even get me started with the fact that his human body's going to get just as wrinkly. His other form isn't. Not now and not in the next five millennia._

She longingly gazed at the parked motorbike by the maple trees. Times like these she would want to ride it to someplace where she could try to forget, or just ride it at high speeds to feel free. But she knew doing so would only result to a quick trip to Gonersville. She had sworn off riding the bike when she was having a downtime and was ninety-nine percent probable to ride it to death.

These days, riding the bike was only necessary when Kurama couldn't meet her in the afternoon, that is, when he didn't say, "I'll see you, Professor," the previous day. It was almost routinely, their meetings. So routinely that she happily settled, as in routine she was always happy and comfortable.

Tears of frustration cut at the back of her eyes as she kicked off her boots at the genkan. She was at it again. She was being selfish again. Why would she wish him heartache?

God, he loved the man. She didn't know when or how it started, but she just did. She could practically see herself arguing and playing mindboggling games with him for rest of her life. Sappily romantic and convoluted, but it was the truth.

Perhaps it wasn't the same for him. Perhaps he was afraid of putting himself in a vulnerable position. She was only going to cause him heartbreak when she died.

She felt jealous of Keiko; Urameshi was willing to go through a shitty and agonizing heartbreak for her.

But due to it Keiko killed herself with guilt every single day even if she didn't say.

Chiaki sighed. The boot wouldn't come off and she resigned to sitting on the wooden floor to take it off, lacking any amount of energy to toil while standing.

When finally the footwear was off, she was too drained to get up that she laid her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. God, she wanted a good cry.

"Chiaki!"

The upside-down face of Botan met with hers. Chiaki all but shrieked and impulsively she jumped up, knocking her head on the ferry girl's.

A frantic moment of gathering their bearings and screaming in agony and she was ripping her own throat, yelling at her friend for catching her unawares and helpless.

"Just because you can slip _through_ walls doesn't mean you can just walk in on me without a word!" Chiaki said, nursing her sore forehead.

"Sorry!" said Botan, nursing her own. "And I didn't get in through the walls."

"Huh?"

Several heads poked out of the entryway to _her_ sitting room—Keiko, Shizuru, Yukina, and Shiori's. "Pardon the intrusion!"

"We have spare keys, remember?" said Keiko, smiling.

Chiaki's lips formed a pout. Of course. She must have been really out of it, lamenting her heartbreak, to not notice the extra five presences in her apartment.

"I didn't know we're having a girls' night-in," she said, walking up to her friends with her hunched form. "Good evening, Mrs. Hatanaka," she belatedly said.

"Hello, dear. Did my son ask you out yet?"

Chiaki wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, we're going to do something about that," said Botan, grabbing her arm to sit her on the couch.

o-o

"Miss Aoshi?" said his mother.

Kurama looked up from the book he was perusing, finding his mother standing next to the shelf where the picture frame sat. A finger pointed to the group picture that he and the rest of the team took in the infirmary some months ago, after they put the case of the hybrids to rest. In the portrait, Aoshi was sitting on the bed where the girls had squeezed into, their arms around her.

"Yes, Mother."

"What took you so long to display this?" she asked, plopping gently on the couch next to him.

He wasn't one to put too many pictures of friends in his house as he wasn't exactly sentimental, but Botan had always been adamant that he started giving more value to these mementos. She was seething when they dropped by and she didn't find the new picture in his sitting room. They were friends, after all, she'd said. Aoshi had only laughed her head off, and for some reason hadn't finished until five minutes later.

Sometimes he couldn't fathom her.

Shiori smiled suggestively at him. "When are you going to invite her for dinner?"

 _"Mother—!"_

"No need to be defensive, Shuichi. I know you'll need more time to get to know her."

"Mother, that's not what I mean."

"Oh, I think I know." Shiori's lips drew to a smirk. "You haven't plucked up the courage to ask her out, have you?"

He'd have argued but it was the truth.

He inwardly cringed. He, Youko Kurama, had been unable to ask the woman he liked very much out on a date. Of course there was the occasional _bumping_ into each other or coffee (hers) and tea (his) every afternoon, but never an actual date planned ahead—never a date at some fancy restaurant, as Sugihara had indirectly suggested.

The end of the summer he met her had been a time for recuperation and grieving for the soul. She had been miserable for a long while, secluding herself from the rest of the world. It was a stagnant period, but somehow she managed to crawl her way back into society and the scientific world with little help from him and his friends.

During that time he had every excuse not to wheel in himself back to her life and present his courtship, but after a week of putting off his plans, he was never able to go through with any of it. It was either a new mission or a project in the office came up.

Other times he was just plain scared. Funny how years of eluding romance could make someone as renowned as he run with his tail(s) between his legs. Playing games with the professor had been invariably easy and almost organic, but finally committing himself was an absolute quandary.

Shiori didn't let him answer. "Hard to argue that, isn't it? Really, son, what's holding you back? You're almost twenty-eight."

He'd have more years to live; the professor had at least fifty. "I... I'm just..."

Fifty years of being with the professor. Would that ever suffice? Was he indeed willing to relinquish his immunity to another heartbreak that he'd secured since the last?

He was as every bit of a coward as Hiei thought.

His mother clasped his hands with hers. "Are you afraid to commit?"

He only managed to nod his head.

"Well, is she?"

"As much as I would like to say that I know the answer, unfortunately, I don't, Mother."

Shiori's eyes saddened and she let go of his hands, staring out the window. "She let me in on a secret, son."

"Sorry?"

"I never told you, okay?" she said, raising his eyebrows at him. He slowly nodded his head, suppressing the urge to resist his mother's offer. "She said she's not expecting you to do anything."

Kurama's eyebrows collided, monumentally confused. He had shown his intentions quite clearly before.

Which was six months ago.

"She said you have more years to live and she, well, a relative few. She was telling herself—'Why would he want to tie himself to a human he's going to outlive? He'll only break his heart over something silly.'"

His heart jumped to his throat as his stomach sank further beneath him.

"She said, 'I'd rather be friends with him than hurt him when I die.'"

Did she? She would, Kurama surmised. She was that brilliant to know what he was thinking. Sometimes her accuracy scared Kurama to no end.

He wasn't certain what was more frightening—her awareness or her disappointment.

 _If only I've been more sensible!_

He shouldn't have made his advances, he should have resisted his feelings. What was the best thing to do? Every day the flames became bigger, more arduous to extinguish, fanned by the bellows of her presence. He feared that one day he would have to isolate himself from all that connected him to her, including the professor herself.

Which would only break her heart. Doing otherwise would break his.

 _But what is the true meaning of unconditional love? Is someone as vile as he willing to succumb to something as foreign a concept?_

He looked at his mother whom he loved so much. He thought of his friends—demon or human. They were all going their separate ways when their time finally came and he would suffer all the same. So _why_ must he be afraid of tethering himself to a relationship doomed from the beginning when he had done so times aplenty?

What was he so afraid of?

He and his mother slightly jumped as his keitai went off. He excused himself to answer the call, standing by the window. His heart leapt back to his throat upon seeing the caller ID.

"Professor," he said, trying not to sound anxious when his pulse almost deafened him.

"Hi, Kurama!" she said, cheerily. "I know it's unexpected but I just called to say I'm flying out tonight."

Panic rode on his voice to his utter surprise as he spoke the first things in his mind. "Flying out? To where?"

"Germany. I've been given a scholarship for postdoctoral studies at Heidelberg. Isn't that cool?"

It was not "cool"! "This is too sudden, Professor."

Kurama immediately regretted the tone of pessimism that escaped his notice.

"Can't argue that," she interjected, her cheery vibe dropping. "I sent my application a month ago. They called yesterday to tell me that I need to attend the interview and take German lessons. I'm flying out in advance to prepare some other things."

"And you're only telling me now?" Kurama shut his eyes tightly as a vein started throbbing on his temple. This was too sudden to be happening.

Much to his surprise, she laughed. "Sorry, I was busy making preparations! And don't talk like that, Kurama. You sound like it's the end of the world. I'll be back sooner than you think, don't worry."

He released a heavy, lung-shattering sigh as he pinched at his nose bridge, trying to contain the aggravation in his voice. "And how soon is soon, Professor?" he said, calmly this time.

"A year or two, depends if they would still want me to work with them after I finish my courses."

 _Two years?!_ Kurama wanted to punch something. Something in him sparked to life, and his resolve only grew as he realized how painful the throbbing in his chest had become in so short a time.

"Where are you, Professor?"

"Pardon?"

"Where are you now, as in, right now?"

"Is there a problem? What's wrong, Kurama?"

He clenched his fist out of frustration. "Just _please_ answer the question."

"You're acting weird. I'm on the way to the airport."

"What time is your flight?"

"Why do you ask? You're not going to see me, are you?" she teased.

He only stomped his way to the coat hanger, raising a hand to signal to his mother that he was going out. "Believe it or not, I am."

"Kurama, I know you're going to miss me but—"

"Aoshi Chiaki, answer the question or you're never going to get out of the country in one piece," said Kurama as he banged the door closed after slipping into his coat rather sloppily, already running towards the stairs.

"Whoa, okay, okay! You're scaring me! Twelve-forty-five. Boarding at twelve-fifteen."

Kurama checked his watch as he started his descent. It was nine-twenty. Something simultaneously died and came alive inside of him. It took at least an hour to reach Narita from this district by taxi.

"Professor, listen. I need to tell you something important. Wait for me, do you understand?"

"But you can tell me—"

"No, you're going to wait for me."

"Uh… okay, I guess." He could practically see her rolling her eyes.

Kurama hung up and vaulted the last flight of stairs before breaking into a sprint towards the gate. Of all the days he could tell her, of all the days he could have mustered the courage to finally profess to her his true feelings, it had to be today.

He had been extremely idiotic to put off telling her when he had every chance to. Now presented with the idea of her prolonged absence, he realized he could no longer hold it in.

What a tasteless cliché this was. It was almost too scripted to be true.

The moment he burst out of the gates a taxi was pulling up from one block ahead. Grateful for a quick response to his prayer courtesy of Inari, he ran towards it and hailed, waving his arm frantically.

The vehicle stopped and he opened the door, slipping inside before his nose picked up the familiar scent of lily-of-the-valley. When he turned his face to look at the opposite corner of the dimly-lit backseat, his eyes met Aoshi Chiaki's.

"You said you need to tell me something?"

Out of breath, he couldn't contain his shock. "Professor?"

o-o

"But you said you were—"

She couldn't help it anymore. Five minutes of pretend nonchalance was enough for her to burst into a hysterical fit of giggles, doubling over as she laughed her heart out.

She caught him staring at her, dumbfounded.

Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she sniffed the last of her laughter. "Sorry, Kurama. I was lying. My flight's actually two months from today. And it's not for a postdoctoral but for a conference."

Kurama's expression didn't change. It must have been too sick a joke for him.

Chiaki actually started to worry for the lady-man. "Hey," she said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay?"

It took a moment before he snapped out of his trance. The next things that happened were too abrupt to allow any time to react.

With the strength of this man she only witnessed when he killed, he pulled her to his lap and tilted her face towards him before diving in to lock her agape mouth with his.

Chiaki's breath caught in her throat and her heart flew out of her chest—eyes wide, utterly surprised at this rough display of affection from the man she thought would never afford losing his nerve in any form, in front of anyone.

But her hand nestled to his chest while the other slipped to his neck as she closed her eyes and responded to the kiss. A new kind of happiness enveloped all of her, tingled at her fingertips, as he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers harder than before.

She was rightfully aware that someone else was in the taxi with them and that the kiss had steadily progressed to a level more than merely passionate, but for the life of her, she couldn't care about anything else but the feel of this man's strong chest against hers, his lean arms around her, and his mouth upon hers.

At that time, the only thought that registered in her fogged mind was that she, Aoshi Chiaki, was irrevocably in love with Youko Kurama.

o-o

He'd kissed many women before but all those women would never sum up to what Aoshi Chiaki felt like in his arms and on his lips. To him there was no concrete concept of what heaven was, but it must be something like kissing the professor.

He couldn't even begin to piece together what he was currently feeling. He was shocked and offended and angered and relieved… and plainly happy.

She would always find ways to outsmart him, to manipulate him, and while he felt like responding in kind and playing her just as she did him, in this moment he had only come up with kissing her out of her senses. Without thinking it through, without calculating.

He was finally willing to admit it to her.

He… loved her.

Her lips melded with his and her hands played with his hair. He nibbled at her lip and she breathed into his mouth, tilting her face to press harder, deeper.

A shiver went down his spine as she tugged at his hair when he bit at her lower lip.

Out of oxygen, they pulled away. He placed his hands on her cheeks, gazing open-mouthedly at her reddened face, into her drunken, dreamy, dark orbs, and at her puckered, swollen lips.

"Chiaki, I—" he began, catching his breath, surprised to speak her given name. He looked her in the eyes, and this time she really looked at his, anticipating and aware of him.

"I love you, Chiaki."

Slowly, as though a flower blossoming in the first week of spring, her eyes lit up and her lips curled to the brightest smile he'd seen from her. Then they glazed over with tears, and the panic came back full-force.

She threw her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Are you sure you're willing to go through all the trouble?"

He managed a small laugh. She knew him too well. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Yes, Chiaki."

"But I'm going to die sooner than you'd like."

"I know, Chiaki," he said. This time, the prospect didn't seem too dim.

"I'm going to get old and wrinkly and your other sexier form won't like that."

"I know, Chiaki," he said, smiling. He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, and his ears perked up at the compliment thrown his way.

"And I'm flying—"

He gently pushed her away and grabbed her chin to make her look at him, wiping away the tears from her face.

"I know, Chiaki. I'm going to wait, so please stop worrying."

After a moment, she sniffed and smiled at him.

"I love you, Kurama," she said.

"I love you, too, Chiaki." This time it felt more genuine, more organic. Like a chant he could repeat over and over. "I love you," he tried again.

A voice, this time from someone he completely forgot about, interrupted. "Are you through yet?"

The two of them turned to the driver whose face was every shade of green.

"Suzuki?" said Kurama. Chiaki started laughing. He turned to her, his inquiry hanging in the air.

"He lost a bet to the guys so he had to assume this role," she said by way of explanation.

Kurama's face fell. "Wait, do you mean to say that everyone knew?"

"Yeah," Suzuki spat out. "And I had the misfortune of witnessing something utterly disgusting!"

Chiaki winked at Kurama before turning to Suzuki. "You're just jealous."

Suzuki's eyes bugged out. "I am not, Your Grace. In fact, I am _so_ done so you better get the hell out of here before I decide to kill both of you!"

Kurama and Chiaki looked at each other before scrambling out of the vehicle. As soon as they closed the door, Suzuki drove past at a speed that was well over the limit, the tires screeching upon the asphalt. Kurama wished he wouldn't run to some trouble.

Chiaki's hand took his and he laced his fingers through hers. "Where to?"

Kurama wriggled his eyebrows at her. "My apartment currently houses a lady who's certain to ask about the nitty-gritty."

"Ooh, what daunting prospect!" she said, laughing. "Fortunately, I know of one that is most available. Its hostess cooks the best mazemen in town."

"How convenient." They started walking, hand in hand. "I am personally acquainted with the best brewer of tea in all of Japan."

"You are?"

"Yes. He tells me he gives that hostess you speak of the best kisses she has the fortune to experience."

Chiaki snorted and pulled his face down to hers to plant a quick, forceful kiss upon his lips. Smirking, she asked, "And what else says he?"

"The hostess gives the best kisses in all of the three realms."

Her nostrils flared just as he chuckled. Her smile reached her eyes. They continued walking to the train station.

Kurama was convinced it was the best first date ever—mundane, simple, ordinary. A break from the supernatural and the mystical.

They played a chess game after their sumptuous meal. It was never finished for reasons he'd rather not divulge.

* * *

A/N: Is it finished? Yes, it is finished. This is all freaking surreal. Am I in tears? Oh yes, I am in tears!

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO STAYED READING THIS FIC NO MATTER HOW CONVOLUTED, AGONIZING AND FRUSTRATING IT GOT. You have always made me want to see it through. You have made me happy to a degree that is beyond my vocabulary. So thank you for sticking with Chiaki and Kurama. (And Isamu.) It has been a happy ride.

One last request, dear readers. Could you _please_ write me a review? Tell me whatever you wish: you don't like it, you like it, it's finished too soon, it left you hanging, whatever. Just please tell me how the story has been and how it turned out for you.

Again, I am thankful to everyone who added this story to their lists and to those who reviewed last chapter.

Zwischenzug is going to have a sequel. Perhaps after I graduate in June. We can't really tell for now. I love you all.

Sincerely,

four-eyed0-0


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